


You've Got Time

by Alejado



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol, Humor, Nonlinear Time, Space Bikes, a dash of angst, a little fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 120,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alejado/pseuds/Alejado
Summary: "No one can open the Vault alone. I opened the Vault. There was no one with me but I was not alone." A team of six entered the Vault. Kabr fought and died. Praedyth was captured. Pahanin ran. Two were cut away, and one hid. This is the story of before that, and after.Or: A story about falling off of cliffs, and the consequences thereof.





	1. Are You With Me?

I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map  
And I knew that somehow I could find my way back  
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too  
So I stayed in the darkness with you

Cosmic Love – Florence and the Machine

* * *

It is quite impossible to describe these events to you, for you are a being of linear time. From your birth you have been immersed in it. It is part of the universe in which you live. It is the vehicle for your life, every action you take, and every thought that passes through your mind. Every perspective you will ever have is viewed through the inevitable lens of cause and effect.

So to tell this story, we must accept certain limitations. We cannot understand these events truly in their complexity. As a square on a paper could not comprehend a cube, we cannot comprehend what occurs here.

With that being said, let us try anyway.

* * *

Deep within the Vex fortress known as the Vault of Glass, something stirs. It is notable for being less of a something and more of a someone. Well, two someones, in a way. Or just one, from a different angle.

Semantics like this distinction are very confusing in a place like this.

Two eyes open, as they always have opened, and always will. This action is written into the fabric of time. It is ensured existence by the will of a single being (or two). This being is notable then, too, for having a will, because for the Vex in this place and time there is only the Pattern. This being(s), though part of the Pattern, exists only through its own will(s).

They move, the two of them, as they always move from this fissure in the wall. This fissure has been occupied only once, but also a thousand nights. They always sleep in different places, yet this sleep and waking have happened an uncountably infinite number of times.

The sound of footfalls, though inevitable as the being's waking, do not echo. Or they do echo, but not now, and not here (In the Vault, these two are partially synonymous.). In this way, the being goes unnoticed by the Gorgons of the maze. They are so very, very, careful. They do not make mistakes. In this way, they exist when others do not.

* * *

They pull along their other Human companion, the three of them rushing towards a specific location, a specific time, a specific timeline. This happens but once. The new (and old) companion holds a different air about him. The Vault writhes against it, but cannot overcome it completely.

* * *

They hold it in their hands. A shield. The last of Kabr's light. A comfort. The potential is there, but the actions are not taken.

* * *

~~The Gorgon explodes, peppering her with shrapnel. They hiss at the pain, at the defeated corpse of their foe, at the Darkness that rushes in to steal their breath. They hate this. It's sloppy. And it wastes bullets. They must do better.~~

* * *

~~The Gorgon explodes, peppering the surrounding rock with shrapnel. She hisses at the corpse and releases her Ghost to collect what he may. The Mythoclast is empty. The Requiem, nearly so. Over the dripping echoes, they hear the whine of Harpy lifters around the corner.~~

* * *

They check the gun. Half a magazine left. Seven bullets. They turn to Praedyth besides them, who is panting in exertion. "I'll deal with the Fanatics. You just run." The Warlock nods. The threads of causality pull together into a tapestry. The Hunter smiles.

* * *

~~The Gorgon floats past. Its gaze sweeps smoothly over their hiding place. The second one rounds the corner, and it spots them. Its death draws the attention of the other.~~

* * *

They tuck themselves into a crevice in the wall, pushing back and back until the ambient glow of the Maze is a dim line. She needs sleep. There isn't enough Light here to sustain them. They place the sidearm on her lap, and she leans her head against the wall.

* * *

The first Gorgon explodes, peppering the other one with shrapnel. A knife in the second one's eye is enough to down it. They loot the bodies for all they're worth and move on.

* * *

The two of them carefully climb the wall, every movement deliberate. One floats invisibly a few feet from the expanse. The other half goes by hand and foot, scaling the cliffside. They reach the door, take out a sidearm (three bullets), and shoot the controls once. They grab the person inside and start running.

* * *

This is what they had been searching for. What they would continue to search for. But here and now it as in front of them. The gate is open. In this exact time and this exact place, the way is clear.

* * *

They check the sidearm. Less than half a magazine left. Five bullets. They turn to Praedyth besides them, who is panting in exertion. "I'll deal with the Fanatics. You just run." The Warlock nods. The threads of causality pull together into a tapestry. The Hunter smiles.

* * *

She gasps in a breath. Life, just enough of it, drives the air out, and then back in. Alone. The two of them are alone. The rest of their Fireteam isn't here. Just a Hunter and her Ghost. Water drips up the walls of the chasm.

* * *

The Ghost puts what Light he can into healing the shattered bones. Survival here depends on being able to run and fight. The Hunter bows her head and murmurs an apology. There's not much point. She will fall again, and not have enough Light to catch herself. It was inevitable. The Ghost finishes healing her wrist and secrets himself away in the folds of her hood. His eye is the dimmest of stars.

* * *

The three of them finally make it to the gate. The Warlock is slow, the Hunter is delayed. But they were here and will be here. It's open. It's impossible. The door does not open, ever. Yet here it is, the shimmering field alive with some Vex calculation. Maybe it's a trap. The distant screams of fanatics say otherwise. There is hope.

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED  
PARTIES: Three [3]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.4]; One [1] Ghost-type [u.1], One [1] Guardian-type, Class Warlock [u.2]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Atheon; Jax, Azra; Praedyth; Templar's Well; Vault of Glass [Venus]; Vex  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.2:0.1] Why am I going first?

~~[u.4:NaN] Because _I'm_ the one that sprung _you_ , so I get to decide.~~

~~[u.4:NaN] Because I can survive in here and you can't.~~

[u.4:1.4] I was and am and will be behind you. This can work.

~~[u.4:NaN] Because I'm not sure the gate will take two.~~

[u.4:0.5] Don't argue, just _go!_

[u.2:0.2] The gate is open?

[u.4:0.2] Better than staying here.

[u.4:3.5] He's through. Now our turn. You with me, Spark?

[u.2:0.3] Azra, what's going on?

[u.1:0.1] I don't know why it's different, but it is. Things don't just change here.

[u.4:-0.4] Do you need a countdown or something?

[u.4:3.6] You with me?

[u.2:0.4] Here goes nothing.

~~[u.4:NaN] Because you're the Warlock, you'll be more use to them.~~

[u.4:0.7] Praedyth, just go! I'll be behind you.

[u.2:0.7] It's… it's open! It's real! When did this happen?

[u.4:3.6] You with me?

[u.2:0.8] What if it doesn't work and it just kills us?

[u.4:0.5] Why do you talk so loud?

[u.4:7.5] Ten, nine, three, seven, three, three, eight, ten, ONE! Four, three, seven, three, three, thirteen, five,

[u.4:3.6] You with me?

[u.1:0.8] I can't believe that actually worked.

[u.2:0.9] Give me a minute to catch my breath…

[u.4:3.6] You with me?

[u.1:9.9] I'm with you. Go.


	2. I've Been Looking For Centuries

He said, "One day, you'll leave this world behind  
So live a life you will remember."  
My father told me when I was just a child,  
"These are the nights that never die."

The Nights - Avicii

* * *

It was a happy sight. Three Hunters sat around a small fire with their backs against a boulder. The night air was cool and mellow and carried the barest hint of salt from the nearby sea. The flames cast a small pool of cozy light and warmth on the barren rocks. Glasses and bottles clinked and the barest hints of laughter rippled out from their protective nook. A fourth Hunter, swathed in a yellow-orange cloak, sat lookout on top of their boulder. He studied their surroundings through the scope of a gun nearly as long as he was tall. Occasionally he would shift, scanning the horizon in slow, steady sweeps.

It was a classic pre-mission party for the four. Their ultimate goal relied on stealth, so instead of dropping by on jumpship, they'd have to ride in a few hours by Sparrow. The loot (a massive stash of Fallen tech and supplies, in an unexplored Golden Age research lab to boot) promised to be more than worth their efforts. So tonight, with Shiro keeping watch in case a Fallen nest they'd kicked earlier proved trouble, they decided to get pleasantly drunk, tell stories, and take bets on the next day's events. Every few minutes, Shiro would softly call down a suggestion of his own. If he killed more Vandals than Tevis, he'd win a pot of seven hundred glimmer and two shock blades scavenged from a House of Kings Captain. Cayde bet Shiro that something would attack their position before the night was up. Andal bet that it would rain. At this point, nobody was stupid enough to take that one, except for Cayde.

It was a good time. The four were pack, and all things were settled between them. There was only so much you could go through with a person before you learned them well, the jagged edges smoothed over until you fit together like gears in a watch. This group was no exception. Telling the story of everything that had happened between them would take months. There were precious few secrets to darken their bonds. Hurting one would surely bring the righteous retribution of the other three. They rode and fought and worked like a well-oiled machine, a complex dance learned from years upon decades of dedication.

So tonight wasn't particularly exceptionable, as far as nights went. Tomorrow was a high-stakes grab, but they weren't raiding hive tunnels or trying the Vault of Glass. In truth, some of them would later recount the night as 'almost boring', up to the point Shiro cocked his sidearm and let out a soft 'heads up' whistle.

All talk died, except for Cayde's triumphant demand that Shiro hand over the glimmer for losing their bet. The lookout slid from his perch, shaking his head. He crouched to conceal himself behind the rock and murmured just loud enough to be heard over the fire. "I'm not so sure anything is 'attacking', Cayde. It's a Human. Running right for us."

Andal Brask leaned forward. His voice was slurred from the alcohol, his face glowing with a telltale flush, but his eyes were still sharp. "A lone Human, all the way out here? We're smack-dab in the middle of Fallentown. It's gotta be a Guardian. Did you see a Ghost?"

Shiro shook his head again. "I didn't see one, but they're going fast and headed this wa-"

He was interrupted by a clatter and thud as the stranger attempted to vault the rock, failed miserably, and nearly landed in the fire. She scrambled off of her hands and knees to find three guns and a rather impressive knife pointed in her direction.

There was a beat of silence while they took each other in. On one side, four veteran Hunters, weapons cocked and in hand. Two Exos and two Humans, in various states of inebriation. The blue one on the right stole a sip of his drink, gun never wavering a centimeter.

On the other side was a Human woman in basic clothing. She fought for breath, eyes wide in panic and confusion. She had short dark hair and a rather plain face. One hand and a knee were bleeding from scrapes. She was unarmed and largely unarmored, save for some generic pads and a thin vest. She looked back and forth between the Hunters, trying to figure out what she'd stumbled upon.

"Whatcha running from, sweetheart?" Cayde finally asked.

The newcomer opened her mouth to answer, but just then, a Ghost appeared over her shoulder with the telltale puff of light. She yelled, fell backwards, and awkwardly scuttled away from it. Her hand fell on a fist-sized rock and she hucked it at the small machine, which simply vanished and reappeared a foot to the left. "Please, listen," it tried to reason. The woman grabbed another rock.

Their small drama was interrupted by a burst of raucous laughter from the Human Hunter on the left. He pounded his knee, almost bent double with the force of his mirth, and stabbed his knife into the ground next to him. But he wasn't just laughing at the woman alone, he was pointing at the Exo across the fire. Behind him, Shiro began to chuckle as well. "Isn't this a familiar story," he drawled, eliciting another round of howling laughter from the Nightstalker.

The blue Exo had a sour look on his face. He holstered his gun and took another swig of his drink, muttering, "At least _I_ didn't throw any rocks at my Ghost."

That seemed to undo the tension in the air, and the other two put away their weapons as well. "At least she hasn't fallen off any cliffs," Andal said, turning a kind smile to the Kinderguardian before him, "Yet. You must be new."

"What the hell is going on?" She finally managed to ask. She gave another yelp as her Ghost teleported in front of her, which drew another bout of laughter from Tevis.

"Calm down, your Ghost isn't going to hurt you," Shiro soothed. "Look, see?" He held out his hand and an orangey Ghost appeared above it. It spun and let out a few friendly clicks, drifting over closer to the wary woman. She gave it a highly skeptical look but didn't otherwise protest as it completed an orbit around her and returned to its Guardian.

She held out a (slightly trembling) hand, and her Ghost settled down on it with a chirrup. "Hi," it said in a pleasant tenor, "I'm your Ghost. I was made to find you. I looked for a really, really long time. It's so good to finally meet you." There was a tingling and a warm sensation, and then her Ghost disappeared from her palm and reappeared over her shoulder. He did a quick circuit around her head in apparent glee before settling down.

The woman was clearly baffled. She had no previous experience to draw on. Something told her that small floating robots weren't exactly normal, but she didn't think waking up on a cliff top with no memories was normal, either. She played along. "Do you have a name?" She asked, holding out her hand again. The Ghost settled there obediently while she gave it a thorough look-over.

"Not yet! For now you can just call me Ghost. You should probably pick a name for yourself sometime, too."

"Huh," the woman replied, realizing for the first time that she didn't have a name. "Weird."

"How long have you been up for?" Andal asked.

The woman settled on her knees and her Ghost replied, "About… eight minutes at this point. Seven forty-seven."

"Freshest one I've ever met. Name's Andal Brask. It's a pleasure." He stuck out a hand and she took it, amazed that she knew what a handshake was. He continued. "The grumpy one is Cayde-6, that's Tevis Larsen, just call him Tevis, and our lookout is Shiro-4." Each of them nodded in turn. Tevis finally managed to suppress his giggles.

"Speaking of lookouts, my shift is up," Shiro said. With no fanfare or warning, he took out his sidearm, flicked off he safety, and shot a still-grinning Tevis in the head. The Human slumped over, boneless.

The woman was up on her feet in an instant, a swear on her lips, but Andal's outstretched hand and easy grin stayed her from running. "You just… you _killed_ him!" She shouted, hand going to her waist for a weapon that wasn't there.

"Serves him right," Cayde groused, but he couldn't keep the smile off his features either. Tevis' Ghost appeared above his limp form, glowing with a soft blue light. Shiro put his gun away.

"Death isn't a big deal for us Guardians," he explained to the open-mouthed newbie, taking Tevis' drink from his limp grasp before it could spill. A flash of light from his Ghost and Tevis stirred, letting out a groan of complaint. Shiro nudged him with a foot until the Nightstalker stood, took the sniper rifle, and well, stalked over the lookout perch. Shiro handed the drink off to the woman and took Tevis' seat, still explaining. "Our Ghosts can heal our injuries, and if we die they can bring us back, most of the time. A rez cures all ills, even drunkenness, so this is how we get smashed and still have a sober lookout without someone sitting out all night. Now hand me the Jäger." The last point was directed at Cayde, who tossed a small bottle over to his fellow Exo. The woman sat back down, disbelief still on her features.

"Ten minutes into life and you're already giving our new Kinderguardian alcohol?" Andal asked.

Cayde leapt to Shiro's defense. "She'll learn fast. She's got good instincts. You wake up and some talking, floating magic robot orb-thing is jabbering in your face? Running's a good decision. She's a Hunter, for sure."

"Last time I checked," Andal jibed, "that particular decision ended up with you falling off a cliff and dying, and lead to our friend here getting scraped up." She looked at her injured hand, and Ghost floated over to give it a flash of Light. The pain melted away and the blood disappeared, leaving her hand looking like it was never scraped in the first place. She examined it, fascinated, by the light of the fire.

"Well yeah, but it also landed her in the company of four of the most dashing heroes around these parts," Cayde argued.

"I would have led you over here anyway," Ghost whispered in her ear, "we're alone in Fallen territory,"

"I still have no idea what's happening," She stage-whispered back.

"Well-" Andal began, but her Ghost interrupted.

"I had a whole thing planned out, you know. I've been looking for _centuries_." There was a lot of righteous indignation there for such a small frame.

Andal grinned sheepishly and raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, our newest Guardian. Listen to your Ghost good. And bottoms up. That's expensive whiskey in that drink. Don't let it go to waste."

She complied, grimacing at the sharp flavor, only barely masked by the sweet of whatever it was mixed with. A moment later, the taste abided to a warm glow in her stomach. She sipped at it as her Ghost settled on her knee and began its story.

"Your first life began long before mine. You were born under the Traveler's blessing, in Humanity's Golden Age. The Traveler, a giant sphere of Light and power, arrived in your system centuries ago. With its help, Humanity experienced a Renaissance. Lifespans tripled. Medicine, physics, all areas of science, really, saw huge leaps in progress. The Traveler terraformed the other planets in your system, Mars, Venus, Mercury, even some of the moons of the outer gas giants, and Humanity built great cities. You had so much hope for the future. Your race knew that one day, you would do amazing things, see amazing places, even walk in the light of other stars.

"But an ancient enemy pursued the Traveler across the cosmos. Where the Traveler brought peace and hope, the Darkness brought death and destruction to civilizations, including yours in turn. Humanity suffered a Collapse and faced complete extinction, but the Traveler made a choice. It sacrificed itself to fight off the Darkness and protect your people. Its sacrifice also created the Ghosts, like me, to find people and give them the gift of Light, so they might become Humanity's defenders in its stead. Now it lays dormant above the last place it protects, the Last City Humanity inhabits. Alien species that follow the Darkness, the Fallen, the Hive, the Cabal, and the Vex, have taken over most of the rest of the system. Guardians struggle every day to defend the Last City, to wake the Traveler, and ultimately, to take back the rest of the system and bring back Humanity's Golden Age."

"So, I'm dead," the female Hunter concluded. "That's why I can't remember anything? Who am I?"

"From what I can tell, you died in the Collapse." She frowned. Some vague fragment of memory stirred in her mind. Something about ripping fabric and broken glass. "-But you're not dead anymore. Hopefully, you'll keep living for a long, long time. Nobody knows why Guardians can't remember their previous lives. Some people get flashes, or snippets of memories. But for the most part, you're free to be who you want to be, without regrets for things that happened hundreds of years ago."

"And you're a Hunter, which is the best kind of Guardian," Andal finally butted in, "Our home is in the wilds. We defend the Last City, yeah, but we also scavenge the world for supplies, map new areas, and hassle the aliens a lot. We're running a mission to grab some choice goods from a Fallen stash tomorrow. Could always use another pair of eyes. We'll even give you a free ride back to the City, since it's a long walk and an ocean away."

The woman seemed amicable to the idea. "Sure, if I'd be useful. I'll just keep a look out and… throw rocks. At the aliens." That drew a chuckle from Cayde, who seemed a lot cheerier now that he wasn't the object of Tevis' laughter.

"I think I've got an extra revolver around here somewhere…" Andal murmured. A dull gray gun with a wooden grip materialized in his hands, along with a few boxes of ammo. He handed them across the fire to the new Guardian, who checked the mechanism and loaded the gun with uncertain fingers. Cayde was sniggering again about something, and Andal's smile was perhaps a bit too wide, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

* * *

**Awful Revolver**

_"It's just undeniably terrible. It's a cruel person would give it to a Kinderguardian as a gift." (List of cruel people: Lord Fellwinter, Lady Jolder, Tallulah Fairwind, Micah-10, Andal Brask)._

* * *

"I've got an extra Sparrow you can borrow," Tevis called from his perch, "and I mean _borrow_. She's not the fastest, but she'll get you there. Don't blow her up."

"Sparrow?" She asked.

"It's a bike. A space bike." Cayde explained.

"Bike?"

He sighed and leaned back. It was a beautiful night. "I remember back when I didn't know anything. It'll take a bit for things to stick. Good thing is you're a Hunter, and Hunters don't need anybody to tell them how the world works. You'll figure it out. Just keep your eyes and ears open and keep kickin'. You make it back to the City, they'll kit you out and try to give you some instructions and tell you all about up and down and left and right. And you can do it the Warlock way and read all the books about Solar and Arc and Void you want, and you might know things, but you won't _know_ things, capiche?"

She did caphiche. Some of it. Maybe a third.

Andal, seeing the confusion on her face, took pity on her. "What Cayde is trying to say, is that people can tell you all they want, but the only way to really understand is by experience. So tomorrow will be confusing. But you'll get the hang of it, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Just keep your head down, listen to your Ghost, and try not to get eviscerated too much. Shit hurts."

She nodded. "I think I can do that."

"Well then." Andal held out his glass for a toast. "To your new life. May it be long and interesting."

The four of them clinked glasses. Tevis grunted his approval from above.

Andal's eyes twinkled with humor. "But not _too_ interesting."


	3. You'll Be Fine

So open your eyes child, let's be on our way  
Broken windows and ashes are guiding the way  
Keep quiet no longer, we'll sing through the day  
Of the lives that we've lost, and the lives we've reclaimed

Prayer of the Refugee – Rise Against

* * *

"There it is: Clovis Bray."

They all stopped for a minute to admire it. The steel and glass structure rose several stories up, standing proud and ageless compared to the countless wrecks of the city behind them. A few panes were blown out here and there, but the overstructure was strong and unstooped by the weight of the centuries.

The Kinderguardian (who had still not chosen a name) eyed the building with some skepticism. "With all that glass, how has it not been looted already?"

"The shutters are down," Andal answered, gesturing to the lower level of the building. Indeed, now that she looked, she could see what would have been floor-to-ceiling windows on the first and second floors were covered by some dully reflective material. "Plus, that's no ordinary glass. Probably bulletproof and shatterproof and fireproof and all that. And who's around to loot it, besides the Fallen, who don't care, and us, who, I must mention, are about to begin looting it? We're in the middle of nowhere."

They had all gone to bed at some terribly late hour, sleeping in until the sun had risen a good way towards noon. Then, after some brief lessons on how to ride a Sparrow, (Cayde had insisted it was just like riding a bike, but she didn't know how to ride one of those, either), they had set off in an easterly direction.

It was only two and a half hundred kilometers to Beja, give or take, and another dozen to the target. Supposedly their Sparrows could take that in an hour and a half on a straightaway. In practice the roads were jammed with burnt-out cars and too open to watchful Fallen eyes. It was slower going off-road, but much safer. It was several hours to the river, and since the bridge at Pedrogão was out, an hour more to find a crossing and creep back around to the facility. Their Sparrows could skim over calm water, but near the facility the river ran a deep gulch that was too wide to jump. Further upstream the terrain was more favorable, but a freak storm system to the north had been dumping rain into the watershed. The river swelled its banks, swift and treacherous. But now they were finally here, perched atop their Sparrows, admiring the Golden Age ingenuity that had let this one building stand the test of time.

Time was not something Andal liked to waste. There had been no signs of Fallen activity so far, but for all he knew, an alarm had already been sent. So after a few moments admiring the lab, he started giving orders. It was review, mostly, but a little review never hurt. "Shiro first, then me, Cayde, Tevis. Fast and quiet. Kill any Fallen you see before they get a signal out. Spread out, first objective is the stash. Once we find that, Shiro take the top floors, Tevis the basement, grab anything that looks interesting. Me and Cayde will set up the transmat. Newbie," her head jerked around to make eye contact, "stay by the door and watch for Fallen activity. Or any activity. You see anything about that isn't a deer or a bird, call it out right off. Worse comes to worst, hold the door as well as you can. That's our best exit point."

He held up his hand for his Ghost. The little machine projected a map of the area. Andal gestured with a knife. "We're here. Rendezvous is… here." He traced a route southward to a major road intersection. "Brinches. If all goes to hell. Otherwise, we just head south until it's safe to bring in the ships. Rookie's in mine. Any questions?"

"If we leave before the rain hits, do I win the bet?" Cayde asked. They all glanced northward, to the fast-approaching clouds.

"Sure," Andal drawled, "but that's not gonna happen. Let's roll."

* * *

It all happened very fast. Down the gentle slope they went, Sparrows left behind to conserve stealth. The new Guardian gave hers back to Tevis gratefully, sore and frazzled from the hours-long ride. There was a five-second firefight at the door as the veterans neatly demolished the Fallen resistance there. Then, with helmets on and guns drawn, they proceeded into the facility, leaving the Kinderguardian to stand watch among the Fallen corpses.

Then she was alone, staring at the dead things (six limbs, four eyes) and listening to the sound of footfalls on the radio.

"So…" Ghost started. She looked up and waited for some continuation of his sentence, but only awkward silence hung in the air.

"Was that an attempt at conversation?"

"Maybe."

"Well, it was a bad one." She moved back to the door and peered outside. Nothing.

"How would you know about good conversation? You haven't even been alive a whole day yet."

"I know. That was how bad it was." She couldn't keep the smile off her face as Ghost got flustered.

He warbled some mechanical notes. "Cut me some slack. I haven't been around many people to practice, lately. Too busy looking for you."

She let that go unanswered. The sky was growing darker, and the winds were picking up now. Some part of her knew it was going to rain in the next twenty minutes. She just looked at the sky, the bending tree branches, smelled the wind, and knew.

"This is crazy," She murmured under her breath.

"What is?"

"We're literally fighting aliens. The fact that I know that fighting aliens is weird, is weird itself. And I know what handshakes are, but not what a bike is. And I don't have a name. But I know Andal pronounced Brinches the Spanish way instead of the Portuguese way. The e was wrong."

"I know it's confusing." He scooted over to be in her field of view. "It takes every Guardian a while to find their feet. You're already doing so well. I'll be there with you, every step of the way."

She just hummed and scanned the horizon again. "I just wonder when anything's going to be normal again. Or normal for the first time. This is just… crazy." She didn't have a better word.

"You'll see. Things will calm down a bit once we're safely in the City. There'll be time to catch your breath."

"… Tell me about it? While we wait?"

"The Last City is…" He searched for adequate words. "Big. And beautiful. There are so many people there, all living their lives. But it can be noisy sometimes."

Silence hung for a moment. The woman scanned the broken concrete of the field before her, but nothing moved beyond the push of the wind. Maybe all the animals had gone to ground, with the storm coming and all. Maybe the gunfire had scared them off for a while.

Conversation was better than listening to the thunder in the distance. She spared a glance at her Ghost and asked, "What's your favorite place you've ever been?"

"Oh, it's about two-hundred-odd kilometers northwest of here. Middle of nowhere, really. Pretty cliff. It's where I found my Guardian, you know."

She snorted and pushed him aside with the back of her hand. "Be real."

"I am being real," he assured. "I was beginning to think I'd never find you. But then there you were! But besides that… hm." He clicked thoughtfully. "There's a place in North America. On the shore of this enormous freshwater lake. It's huge, you can't see the other side. Like looking out over the ocean. And there are these big walls of orange-red sandstone there. Straight down into the water, which is clear as crystal. I don't think the place was occupied, even back in the Golden Age."

She squinted at a dot on the horizon, trying to tell if it was a bird or a trick of the clouds. "You got a thing for cliffs or something?"

"Only because you do."

"Huh. Hold up." That dot was becoming larger, and a lot less dot-shaped. It wasn't bird-shaped either. She motioned for Ghost to turn on her input to the feed.

"Uh, guys? There's a big-ass ship coming."

"How big?" Cayde queried.

She squinted at it in the gathering gloom. "Uh, really big? I don't know, well, anything about ships." She shifted her feet and squinted harder. "It's long and pointy on the front, and it's got a cylinder thing off on one side? I think I see some smaller ships too—"

Andal's swear cut her off in the channel. "That's a Ketch. Bad news. We gotta finish setting up this transmat. Shiro, get back down there. Tevis, to me. Extra hands will make this faster. We'll have to save the exploring for another day."

"On it," came Shiro's reply, and then the line was silent. The woman's gut was in knots with sudden anticipation. She checked the chamber of her gun.

"Seems like we're getting tossed in the deep end," Ghost remarked.

They stood there listening to the wind in the trees and watching the ship edge its way closer for several tense minutes. She felt the tenor of the air, smelling the ozone and listening to the beats of her heart. The tension was so thick she could almost taste it on her tongue. _Azra,_ she mused. _Azra is a good name._

The Ketch was half of the way there when Shiro sidled up behind her. "Backup as requested. We gotta buy time if the Fallen get here before Andal's done."

"Are they here because we set off some sort of alarm, or because they were going to come anyway?" She asked.

He sized up the ship, the terrain, the thick clouds overhead. "Let's hope it's the second. That means they won't rush and won't be ready for a fight." No sooner had he spoken then two smaller ships, "Skiffs," Shiro supplied, detached from the main party and circled low. "No dice, then. Andal? Things are about to get interesting."

"Just a few more minutes, we're at ninety-five percent here. Ninety-six. Go, Tevis."

Shiro reloaded his sidearm, then to Azra's surprise, holstered it, leaving his hands empty. The Skiffs dropped close to the ground and disgorged their cargoes of Fallen. "Stay here, hold the door, and shoot any that get close," The Exo ordered. She nodded, feeling a strange mix of terror and excitement close her throat. "Relax," he drawled, "You'll be fine."

But his posture was tense. Across the field, the Fallen were trilling some kind of war cry. It echoed eerily across the broken concrete. The first gunfire started pouring in. The new Hunter shifted back behind the doorframe for cover. Shiro pulled a glowing, crackling blade from nowhere and disappeared into thin air.

The first fat drops of rain hit the ground, and the aliens screeched as they began to fall in kind. A large Fallen in the back (a Captain, Ghost would tell her later), tumbled to the ground, shields burst and throat cut. Azra saw a brief glimpse of Shiro before he disappeared again. Another Fallen died. Then another. Tevis shouted something about contact, and a peculiar hiss-snap sound echoed on the channel.

Only a few Dregs and Vandals made for her position. Most were focused on the absolute mayhem that was happening behind their lines. Azra took potshots at the ones who got close, occasionally managing to score a hit. A Vandal got too close, and she instinctively fanned her hammer, sending four bullets straight up into its face.

She ducked behind the doorframe to reload and found herself surprisingly calm compared to minutes ago. Her hands didn't shake, her breathing was slow and deep, and her heart was steady. Ironic, that her own Ghost could have driven her to terror, yet the waves of four-armed aliens and the loom of imminent death barely phased her. The rapid triple-fire of a new gun joined the chatter of Fallen weapons outside. The three others were racing down the main hallway now, Tevis in the lead. Cayde was yelling something about the rain.

She spun back around the doorframe, found a Dreg almost on top of her, and punched it in the face. It went down hissing, and a couple barks from the revolver silenced it for good. "Sure she's not a Titan?" Cayde joked, suddenly behind her. He casually tossed a grenade into a group of Fallen headed to their position.

Andal ignored him. "The ships are almost here, but we're gonna need a bit more distance between us and the Fall-"

"Shiro down!" An unfamiliar voice called over the comms. Andal swore again, taking a couple of shots through his rifle before trading off to a hand cannon, barking orders. "You stay back, start heading south. We'll go dig Shiro out of this mess and catch up." Another Skiff dove low and dropped more Fallen onto the battlefield. "Be brave, newbie. Now…Go!" The three pack-mates broke from cover as one, pouring a hail of deadly fire towards their enemies. A second later, Azra dipped out, heading the other way.

The going was rough. The rain was coming down so hard now she had to squint against it, stumbling over rocks and branches scattered in her path. A mild surprise at her fleet-footedness found its way through her focus. Something told her people usually weren't this fast. Still, she cursed herself for not waiting until after the mission to give Tevis back his bike. She glanced behind her and saw a couple of vehicles and more aliens had slipped the veterans and were now in pursuit of her.

"Those aren't Sparrows, those are Pikes!" Ghost shouted. "Keep running!"

The Pikes began firing. Most missed their mark, but it only took one hit to send her sprawling. "Get up get up get up get up," Ghost chanted, and she complied, stumbling to her feet and taking off again. She grabbed a branch off the ground and threw it as hard as she could at the nearest one, but it simply bounced off the armored bike.

In some miracle stroke of luck (or perhaps just good situational awareness on Tevis' part), a grenade flew wide and landed in their midst. Several Pikes exploded and the rest scattered, peeling off to return to the main fight. The comms chatter was dim behind the pounding rain and her rushing blood. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach that she was abandoning the other Guardians to a certain death. The Ketch still loomed in the near distance, its guns matching the lightning flash for flash.

_Focus on you,_ she scolded herself, _you already have more than you can handle._ The rest of the Fallen were gaining fast now. The river was a lot closer than she thought. The steep drop-off suddenly boxed her in along one side. The water was frothy, swift-running, and full of debris. It rushed by dozens of feet below.

The sound of Andal shouting suddenly broke through the static and the rain. "We're coming! We're coming!" But it was too late. Azra had run out of her headstart. Fallen fire peppered the ground around her, striking her legs and back and forcing her to slow. She turned and unloaded her gun into the closest enemy, a floating Fallen robot now only a few paces away.

The last thing she heard before the explosion was Cayde's shout and the too-distant sound of Sparrow engines.

* * *

They were just in range to see the blast. The Fallen's victorious cheers were cut off a second later by a burst of submachine gun fire. They scattered for cover too slowly.

Shiro was the first one on the scene, jumping off his Sparrow and unloading Trespasser into the panicking Vandals without missing a beat. There was no sign of Ghost or Guardian on the clifftop. His optics scanned the rushing waters hopefully, but if there was a body among the leaves and sticks, he didn't see it. Three more Sparrow engines idled behind him.

"No trace," he reported, "that Shank exploding must have sent her off the edge. Can you raise the Ghost on comms?"

"No. The storm's causing a lot of interference," Tevis replied. "And that water's going fast. If he's gone downstream with her, he's probably out of range already."

There was a beat of silence as they all considered the options. A Captain's cry in the distance settled things. Andal set the orders.

"We have to go. There's too many Fallen. She's got her Ghost, she'll be fine. We won't be if we stay to look for her. We can report last known location to the Tower or come back another day. For now, let's move."

Nobody grumbled or complained, but it was clear that no-one liked the situation. Yet the Fallen were getting closer, and the rain was only intensifying with every minute they wasted.

Four Sparrows raced away, towards the safe landing zone and their ships.


	4. It's Not So Bad

I'm gonna scrawl my name on the bare bones of the earth  
I'm gonna dig my heels into the ground  
'Cause when that ferryman comes for to tally up my worth,  
I won't leave much to find that can be found.

Vagrant Song (Midwest) – Ryan Ike

* * *

Nothing. Nothing at all. Then, suddenly, _everything._

Azra gasped as her head broke the surface, taking in water along with the air. She choked and sputtered. Before she could even wipe the water from her eyes, a log swept out of nowhere and bowled her back under the surface. She struggled up, again, reaching desperately for air until a swell caught her and forced her back under, again. There was a sharp pain in her head as it hit something, then nothing. Nothing at all.

* * *

_They gasp in a breath. Life, just enough of it, drives the air out, and then back in. Alone. The two of them are alone. The rest of their Fireteam isn't here. Just a Hunter and her Ghost. Water drips up the walls of the chasm._

* * *

Suddenly her eyes snapped open, some animal instinct keeping her from inhaling underwater. She fought to the surface. Sweet, blessed air filled her lungs. Rain poured down on her face, and she could hear nothing but the rushing of the river. Panic filled her anew as some unseen obstacle caught her ankle and her own momentum dragged her under. Debris hit her, knocking her breath out. She struggled uselessly to free her leg, lungs burning and eyes screwed shut against the hail of sticks. The world had already dimmed and narrowed when something big and heavy rammed through, smashing into her face and freeing her ankle with a bone-crunching snap. Pain ran up her leg, leading to nothingness. Utter nothingness.

* * *

_Azra came back to ꙰'s voice. It seemed to echo in her helmet. Or maybe that was her ears still ringing. "Fireteam leaders: Do not advance on the Wall. Fall back to the Ridgeback District."_

* * *

Cold assaulted her senses. She was confused, because cold wasn't nothingness. There wasn't supposed to be anything. Something urged her to right herself and swim up. She broke into air, taking huge, shuddering gulps as she treaded water. The river here was calmer, but no less swift. Confusion clouded her thoughts. "Go for the shore. The _shore!_ " Someone urged her. So she swam for the shore. The sound of rushing water was getting closer, raising alarm bells in her head, but she couldn't figure out what it meant. A dead tree whipped by her and she tried, futilely, to grab on. The rushing became a crashing noise. Before she could react, the current shot her out over a drop. It was a waterfall, then.

"Well, fuck," Azra said. And then, nothing.

* * *

_The water was cold. Azra choked for a moment, losing some of her air. She grabbed irrationally at the bubbles as she sank through the water. After a second she gave up, watching them run through her fingers and looking up at the light shining on the sea's surface. It was quiet. ꙰ floated next to her._

* * *

She lived, struggled, died, and lived again in a confused and frantic jumble of events. The whole world seemed to be water and rock and spray. But eventually, Azra came to not in the chaotic current of the river, but face-down on wet sand. She took a moment just to breathe. She was completely soaked, and the rain pattering on her back wasn't helping.

"Eyes up, Guardian," said a vaguely familiar voice. She pushed herself to her hands and knees, then her feet. She was surprised to find she wasn't hurt, or even sore. She felt… fine, though her mind reeled.

"You fell into the ravine. We got washed downstream several dozen kilometers. I haven't been able to make any contact with the others, the storm is causing too much interference—"

"Whoa whoa there, slow down. I'm still a little…" Azra groped for a word, but dropped it as she surveyed her surroundings.

She was on the inside bend of the river where the silt piled up to form a sandbar of sorts. The space was littered with twisted piles of branches, grass, concrete, and other detritus carried by the water. The river, no longer constrained by the rock gorge, had gone wide and flat.

"We're rather close to the sea now," Ghost said. He waited several seconds for his Guardian to take stock of the surroundings. "I don't think this rain is going to stop anytime soon, so we should find some shelter."

There was still a bit of daylight left (dull and cloud-blocked as it was). Might as well make use of it. "Can I die of exposure?" Azra asked, making her way through the piles of debris away from the riverside.

"If you do, I can bring you back. Dying from exposure would probably be very unpleasant, though."

"Probably," Azra agreed. "How about hunger? Or thirst?"

"That is a little bit different. You don't technically need to eat or sleep much with the Traveler's power to sustain you, but you can still get hungry and tired. It helps to keep up the human habits. And before you ask a dozen other questions, nothing, not even atomization, can kill you in a way that I can't bring you back, as long it's not too Dark."

That gave the new Guardian pause. "You mean, like at night? But Tevis'—"

"No, Dark with a capital D. As in there's not enough Light, with a capital L for me to resurrect you."

Finally they came over a rise and saw the country laid out below them. The rocky and broken land further upstream had given way to a gentler rolling terrain, choked with overgrown grass and shrubs. The occasional remains of a structure peaked above the bowed waves, but for the most part it seemed that this area had gone back to the wilds. "This used to all be farmland, before the Collapse. Now nobody's here to tend the fields. We should head for the trees over there. Out here we might get spotted by the Fallen."

"Do you have the gun?" Azra asked, suddenly anxious. It'd completely slipped her mind.

"Yes, and I synthesized some more ammo for you, too." The revolver materialized out of thin air, landing heavy in her palms. It seemed no worse for wear from their turbulent journey. It slid into the holster easily.

"Let's go, then."

* * *

_The only good thing about being completely soaked,_ Azra remarked to herself, _Is that you can't get **more** soaked._

She was huddled under the collapsed wall of a house, trying to quiet her chattering teeth. Ghost hovered at the front of their artificial cave, scanning the space outside. Water leaked through the broken and porous structure, but as Azra had already concluded, she couldn't possibly get any more wet than she already was. Still, the water was _cold_. At least it was better than plodding through rain-laden, waist-high grass. Azra tucked her hands in her armpits in an attempt to warm them. A fire was completely out of her ability, so the only warmth she had was what her body made.

Ghost finally pulled back from the entrance. "I don't think we were followed."

"Of course we weren't followed, even the Fallen would have to be crazy to be out in this." She hugged her knees tighter to her chest, trying and failing to stop her shivers.

"I can't make much, but let me see…" Ghost hummed for a moment, gathering his energy. With a flash of light, a square of rough fabric floated down over her shoulders. She pulled it around herself gratefully, trying to avoid the spaces where the ceiling leaked. It had only been an hour or two since she woke up on the riverbank, but she was already bone weary. She was tired of being cold, tired of the wet clothes sticking to her skin, and tired of the moaning wind.

"I know one person alone can't control the weather," she muttered (mostly to herself), "but I'm still going to blame Andal Brask for this."

"You should rest now. I'll keep watch and wake you if the weather clears," Ghost said. Azra was too tired to argue. She curled up in the corner, covered by her pseudo-blanket, and willed her trembling body to be still.

She was cold, and wet, and tired, but if she focused on that, she'd just be cold, wet, tired, and miserable. _This place is drippy, but at least I'm not out in the rain. And it's sheltered from the wind, for the most part. I'm alive, I've got a blanket and a gun and a Ghost. I'm not lying in a puddle. And I'm not sleeping on rocks. The rain sounds kinda nice, actually._

It was a bit lonely, she realized. Last night she'd slept next to a bed of coals, the soft sounds of breathing (and some snoring) within reach and the watchful gaze of Tevis to assuage any nighttime fears. Now she just had the rain and the tiny, dripping shelter.

And her Ghost. He'd lit down on her shoulder like a songbird on a branch, keeping his steady eye on the triangle of a doorway they had. "Yer cute, anyone ever tell you?" Azra murmured. Ghost moved from her shoulder and hovered in front of her face. She grabbed him and held him in the hollow between her collarbone and her tucked-in chin, shooshing his token complaints.

It was… nice, once he settled. His chassis was just slightly warm. He hummed gently with some unheard mechanism. In her sixth, faint sense, which Azra simultaneously realized she had, and realized she had no words for, he let out smooth pulses of… something. Like soft waves on the beach. She'd never been to a beach, but somehow she knew the metaphor fit. Gentle eddies in the current of the universe.

She fell asleep to the soft currents of Light and the pounding of the rain.

* * *

Two Days Since the River

"So… Void, Solar, or Arc?"

Azra looked up from her work of rifling through the Vandal's pockets. Ghost had gotten better at conversation, but not by much. "You're gonna have to run it by me again."

He huffed in frustration. "I just spent fifteen minutes talking about them!"

She grimaced and shook ether from her hand. Six Fallen today, and only a small pile of Glimmer to show for it. She wiped her hands clean on her pants and re-holstered the revolver. "Yeah, well I was kinda busy trying to not get killed. Again." Besides the river, she'd died three times in the past two days. All to the Fallen.

Ghost hovered over and healed the scratches on her torso. "Fine, fine. Once again, and _listen_ this time—"

"Uh-huh," Azra replied in a monotone, complete with thousand-yard stare and slack expression.

Ghost made a small noise of outrage. The bored expression melted immediately to one of amusement, sly grin and twinkling eyes. She bapped her Ghost affectionately a few times. He grumbled. She checked her shock pistol and started off eastward again. "I'm messing with you. Keep talking."

He disappeared and reappeared over her shoulder, projecting a basic map in her line of sight. "To keep things short, they're the three ways Light expresses itself. Like elements. Void is about mystery and death and permanence. Solar is heat, emotion, force. Like—"

"—The Sun. Yeah, I get that part." She took a moment to peer up at the aforementioned celestial body. The sky was clear, save for some wispy clouds on the horizon. Cirrus. Probably good weather for a bit.

"And Arc is all about movement, energy, and electricity. Every Guardian potentially can wield all three, but people usually prefer one over the others." They slipped into the forest, blind in the sudden shade. "So, Void, Solar, or Arc?"

Azra paused to let her eyes adjust, and thought. She considered the warmth of the sun on her back as she moved over open ground, and the shady safety of tree cover. She remembered the river: ferocious, untamed, barely restrained by the granite walls. All crash and spray.

"Arc. I think."

Ghost spun in approval. "Give it some thought, then. See if you can't make a connection. Like the others said, your light is yours alone. Well, and mine too. You get the point. How you express that light is a personal thing. Go about this your own way. We've got time. There's a long walk ahead yet."

The map zoomed out to show the entire southern coast of the peninsula. Azra traced their route with a finger. North of Huelva, (apparently the Fallen had claimed that city), then a straight shot southeast to Gibraltar. If luck was on their side, the spaceport there would have something flyable.

"Alright." She flipped her knife end over end in an idle motion, eyes still tracking the holographic topography. "Let's stay in cover. Don't want those Skiffs coming back."

Map and Ghost disappeared, and Hunter moved to blend into the shadows. She wondered if all Guardians had a skill for woodcraft. The only four she'd met certainly did. Maybe it was a Hunter thing.

* * *

Five Days Since the River

She held her hands out over the campfire. After five nights of sleeping in her rough blanket, the heat and light were an undeniable pleasure. "How about 'Spark'?"

"I'm sorry about the static shocks," her Ghost said mournfully. He was the perfect picture of regret, drooping chassis and dull eye. His shell _did_ have a habit of giving off a little zap now and then. She laughed at his guilt. Static shocks were not the worst thing she'd experienced, by far.

"No no, I'm being serious." She'd made many suggestions for her Ghost's name over the past half-week, the vast majority of which were jokes. "Spark. Like a cinder from a fire." She stirred the coals for emphasis, letting loose a small swarm of winking lights.

"Or like a static shock," he muttered, drawing another chuckle from his Guardian. Azra flexed her fingers, grinning as discharges crackled between her knuckles. It was by far the coolest (and most useless) thing she knew how to do.

"C'mon, I'm really not joking. Got it narrowed down to Firefly, Cliff, Cinder, or Spark. Unless you have a better idea?"

He just looked at her for a second. She'd grown so much over the past few days, taking to the Hunter arts like a duck to water. She wore the looted House of Devils banner with perhaps more pride than strictly necessary (then again, she had nicked it from a Baron). Her face was grimy and streaked with soot. Her single scavenged knife was rusty, and that revolver was just …horrifically ineffective. But she was grinning that irresistible grin.

A wave of fondness washed over him. "Spark it is, then."

She pulled the knife and made a show of knighting him. "So I dub thee, Spark."

Then she flipped the blade and held out her fist for a bump.

He couldn't just leave her hanging.

* * *

Seven Days Since the River

There were two skeletons huddled in the corner, a big one and a little one. The adult was curled protectively around the child. Obviously it hadn't helped either of them survive.

Azra stared down at them a little mournfully, wishing there was something she could do. But there was nowhere to bury them, and no doubt trying to move the bones would just reduce them to dust. If she once knew any words to say over the dead, they were lost to her now. "Sorry," she whispered, and slipped by down the hallway.

It was quiet, here. It was just the Hunter and her Ghost, and the dead. The dead didn't make any noise.

"Hey Spark?"

"Yes, Azra?"

"There's a lot of dead people."

He had no response to that. He could feel there was something else bothering her besides the factual number of people who weren't alive anymore. The facility was practically choked with remains, all from Humans who came her in search of protection. The corridor was dark. The base largely had no power, though the hydroelectric plant still worked. The doors they needed to get through would be hard to open without electricity.

Finally, the question came out. "…Why me?"

He tracked her eye movement and pointed the flashlight accordingly. Skeletons lined the halls at random intervals, seeming to leap out in the light one moment, only to disappear into the shadows the next. At last they came to a hall with the dim emergency lights still working. They cast a hellish red glow on the space's former occupants. "…Because you were chosen for something else," Spark answered.

"But, why me and not her?" She gestured to a skeleton that lay across the hall. It had a twisted piece of plastic clutched in its hands. "Or him?" Someone had died trying to mess with the circuit panel. Spark glided ahead to trip the breakers, leaving Azra to stare down at the hole in the skeleton's skull.

"… I don't know, Azra. I wasn't looking for her, or for him. I was looking for you. From the moment I was born, I knew that you were out there, waiting to be found. I didn't know you'd be a Human, or a Hunter. I just knew that you were… special. That you would be brave and resilient and curious."

He finished his work. The lights in the hallway flickered once, twice, then held. "That's the age-old question, though. Are you brave because you are Guardians, or are you Guardians because you are brave? All I know, all I've ever really known, is that you deserve this." He disappeared, leaving Azra to push the door open. "Another chance. Another life. You can do incredible things. You can help people."

Azra wasn't satisfied. The hollow sockets of skulls seemed to glare accusingly at her. She was one of them, not too long ago. Spark did the mental equivalent of a shrug. "These are questions everyone struggles with. I don't have any easy answers. They died. You died. Lots of people die every day, even Guardians. You can focus on that, or you can focus on living. Count your blessings, like you did that night it stormed. You're alive now. It's not raining anymore." He floated into her line of sight and continued his list. "You can write your own future. Do the things you want to do. You're strong and quick and you can come back from death. You have the best Ghost that ever lived."

He didn't believe that last one, really. Azra knew that. But he was right; there was a choice there, between cynicism and optimism. There was no question in her mind which path she'd choose.

She smiled and gave a mock salute. "Mr. Best Ghost, sir! Which way to the loot?"

* * *

Ten Days Since the River

"Too many Fallen. _Too many Fallen!_ " She yelled. They were between her and the door. Both of the doors. She'd thought the maintenance tunnels would be a shortcut, but she was regretting that now. "I can't shoot this many, Spark!"

"Use a grenade! Use your Light!" Light. Ah, yes. She still forgot about that sometimes. She ducked to the left as a Vandal slashed overhand with its spear. Static sparks trailed in her wake. She could throw grenades. She could use the Light to push herself sideways and backwards. If she managed to let go of her anxiety, dodging became as easy as dancing. The battle was choreographed.

But there was just too much for her to pay attention to. She downed one Fallen with the shock pistol and two more took its place. Guns flashed in the corners of her vision. Her sides were on fire, her muscles seized. Her legs always seemed to cramp up at the worst time.

Clarity found her in the middle of the pain, like it always did. The world was so simple in the heat of the moment. It wasn't as if the bullet that just buried itself in her shoulder brought on an epiphany. She just put together the pieces of things she'd given up trying to figure out. Here she was, fighting in the clutches of the river, reaching for solidity and stability. There was none. She tried to hold onto things, to stop the flow, but in the river, the only stillness was death. She could fight against the current, or…

Or.

She could touch the river, swim in it, know it, become it, and by becoming it, change its course.

She didn't question the electricity that arced through her fingers, she just directed it into the Dreg she was grappling with. He flew backwards, dead before he hit the ground.

She didn't shape the weapon that sprung to life in her hands, she just accepted it as it was. It made her nerves sing.

She smiled.

* * *

Twelve Days Since the River

The space port was bigger than she'd expected. It'd take at least twenty minutes to walk from one end to the other (and Azra knew a thing or two about walking at this point). "And this is just the repair yards," Spark said.

"Do we bother with the repair yards?" Azra asked. She tracked what movement she could see through the scope of her scout rifle. The Fallen certainly weren't bothering with them. They were all busy by the launch pads further east.

"There's a chance that they finished repairing some craft before the Collapse. Plus, the computer systems should be linked with the rest of the facility, and I'd rather do my hacking without the Fallen breathing down our necks."

"And what if there's nothing that we can fly in this whole port?"

"Then we see if we can fix a ship."

"And if there's nothing fixable?" She tracked a Fallen Captain (House Devils) as he moved from one building to another.

He made his 'I'm thinking' noise. "Then we either move on to Valencia, or we use the communications array here to call for help and try to hold until it arrives."

She slung the rife back over her shoulder. Neither of those options sounded fun. "Let's hope there's something we can fly, then."

* * *

She was getting jumpy. Spark did his work at the console while she stood guard. There weren't any Fallen in this part of the port half an hour ago, but she was too aware of how that could've changed.

"Got it!" Spark finally said. Azra heaved a sigh of relief. Nothing got your nerves up than staring at a door, waiting for something to jump through it. "And?"

"And there aren't any good ships here. But!" He drifted over her shoulder and projected a map. An area was highlighted red. "There are a few in the facility proper that should do the job. All we have to do is get to them."

"Aren't there a ton of Fallen in the facility proper?"

"Aren't you functionally immortal?" He shot back. He'd picked up some sass from who knew where. Okay, Azra knew where. He'd picked it up from her. The taste of her own medicine was still bitter.

She sighed. "Dying's not particularly fun, you know." She still started towards the door.

"Wait!" Spark highlighted another area on the map, very close to them. "According to the inventory logs, there are some very high-value parts still in storage. If any of them are there, and if they're still working, we could sell them back at the City."

She studied the floorplan and nodded. "Alright then. Lead the way, Mr. Spark, if that is your real name."

"… That _is_ my real name."

"I know, it was a reference."

"To what?"

"… I don't remember."

* * *

"Just through this room and down the hall," Spark directed.

Azra grunted and braced herself against the doorframe. "I don't have a lot of ammo left, man! What's about making some more?"

"I'm busy healing all your bullet holes at the moment."

"We don't have a lot of time before the rest of the party comes crashing in here."

"Internal organs or ammo. You get to choose."

Azra sighed and checked the magazine on the scout rifle. She still had a good ten shots left on it. The shock pistol was another matter. She had ammo for the revolver, but… the revolver was very much a last resort. "Internal organs, I guess."

She chucked a grenade through the door. The explosion shook the floor for a moment, then there was silence. Azra peeked through the entranceway, happy to see the still corpses of two Dregs and the exploded pieces of a Shank. Nothing else in the room moved.

She slipped through the door. It closed behind her with a loud clang. She turned to jump off the catwalk, then-

The horns of a Fallen Captain poked up behind the crate. Before she could process, he spun out from behind cover, raising his weapon.

Azra raised hers too. There was a thrill of electricity in her chest. The urge was just to pull the trigger as fast as possible, but the first shot wouldn't matter if she missed. And only the first shot would matter.

Her focus narrowed to a needlepoint. Just one eye. The scope of the rifle. The form of the Captain. Her right index finger on the trigger-

Two shots fired simultaneously. The Captain fell. Azra heard a bullet whizz over her left shoulder. It chipped the window behind her.

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she could do little but stand there and stare down at the Captain's body for several seconds.

"Wow," was all Spark said.

"Holy crap," Azra replied. It had been a moment of almost pure instinct. The Captain had leapt out of cover, raised his rifle…

She laughed. "Oh. That's what they mean. About how you don't kill with your gun." Instinct and aim had won the battle this time.

She jumped down to inspect the corpse. House of Devils, Shock Rifle too beat-up for her to use, but still useful for parts, no Glimmer. The edge of her radar glimmered red with approaching enemies.

"Just through that door," Spark prompted.

She slid through and locked it. The ship inside was beautiful. Long and pointy in the front, squared off in the back, two outboard motors. It was a peculiar shade of scummy green that Azra hadn't seen before. After all the ruin and rust, it was nice to see something still whole.

"That's it. That's our ticket to the City." Spark sounded really excited. This was the culmination of their almost two-week-long journey.

"Will she still fly?" Azra asked. Spark was already gone, inspecting interior systems. Azra started pulling cables.

"Yessss!" Wow, 'excited' was an understatement. "She won't warp, but… she'll get us there! We've made it!"

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," Azra reminded. "We still have to get out of here in one piece." The ship didn't have any obvious weapons. She wasn't confident they could go toe-to-toe with a Skiff, much less a Ketch if they were unlucky enough to attract one's attention.

"You get the last of the docking cables, I'll open the bay doors, then I'll transmat you in."

"Cool. Transmatting. Gotta love that." She'd done it twice before. The first time made her throw up. Maybe they could just lower the ramp and she could walk on like a normal person.

The doors began to creak open. Spark chided her. "Oh, don't be like that. It's not so bad."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the transmatting happened anyway. Her stomach lurched, and a pins-and-needles sensation spread through her body.

Then she was in the driver's seat of the ship.

"I'll get us out of here," Spark said, "then I'll let you try the controls once we're in clear space. Hold on to your hat!"

"But I don't have a haaa _aaaaaa!_ "

The ship rose gently into the air, wobbling back and forth a bit, then shot though the open bay doors. The Fallen outside raised their weapons, but by the time they'd acquired targets, the ship was already out of range.

Azra just stared out the window as the ground rushed by below. Spark pulled upwards, and the space port faded into the misty distance. The sun was setting on Gibraltar. It reflected dazzlingly off of the ocean waves below them.

Spark was immensely satisfied. He sounded almost smug as he spoke. "Plotting a course for the Last Safe City."


	5. No-one Bet On That

Some had scars and some had scratches  
It made me wonder about their pasts  
But as I looked around, I began to notice  
That we were nothing like the rest

Mountain Sound – Of Monsters and Men

* * *

July 28, 2868

It emerged suddenly from between the clouds. She didn't spare a single glance for the City. Azra's eyes were immediately drawn up to the sphere that overshadowed the mountain valley. It was _huge_. The shell was broken in places, showing dark gaps. The unmarred parts of the structure were dazzling and vaguely pearlescent. Azra's fingertips tingled. It seemed so familiar. Spark said something about a hangar. Azra nodded, still dumbfounded, and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

She managed to collect some sense of dignity by the time they'd neared the Wall. Another stomach-lurching transmat and she was standing on the ribbed metal floor of some enormous room. It was a chaotic space, filled with machines and people. More than that, it was whole, clean and shining. An entire wall was open to the elements, but purposefully, with smooth edges and painted warning stripes.

Azra, despite herself, stood there standing with her jaw dropped. Everything was so _big_. She rushed to the open wall to get a view of the outside. The ground faded into the misty distance below. The mountains stood white-peaked against the pale sky. Inside, everywhere was bustle as people and robots rushed back and forth. She just stood there for several minutes, taking it all in.

A voice broke through her reverie. "That's a pretty beat-up ship you flew in. Are you new?"

She turned to see a Human man standing there. He was shortish and older, with a thinning hairline and a thickening waist. It was hard to tell his age. Her only experience was with immortal Guardians and people long dead.

He offered a hand for shaking, beaming at her. She took it. She meant to ask his name, but when she opened her mouth, a different question came out. "How old are you?"

Mortification hit a second later, turning her face beet-red. The man just laughed. "Oh, that's great. The new ones are always full of surprises. My name's Aaron Temitope. I'm the lead mechanic on shift here. I'm only sixty-seven yet. Still got a good century left in my life, eh?" He winked. She couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"I'm Azra Jax. I think."

He finally let go of her hand to take a clipboard a robot was offering him. He scrutinized it, chewing on the cap of a pen he'd produced from somewhere. "And how old are you, Ms. Azra Jax?"

"Thirteen. Uh, days, not years. Or maybe fourteen at this point?" She stared at the robot, which stood there fidgeting. It didn't look much like an Exo (or at least those she'd seen). It had only a single glowing eye, and its abdomen was hollow. Should she ask its name? Would that be rude?

Aaron scribbled something on the paper and re-capped the pen. He handed the clipboard back off to the robot, "Thank you, Inti," and then he clapped a hand on its shoulder. It hurried off. Aaron turned back to the Guardian. "Let me be the first one to welcome you to the Tower. Beautiful, isn't it?"

She nodded. 'Beautiful' certainly fit the sweeping architectural lines and glittering windows. "The view is… wow."

Aaron nodded sagely. "Now, about your ship…" He made a 'gimme' motion with his hand and another robot hustled over with another clipboard. He licked a finger and flipped through a few pages. "Regulus-class, basic Golden Age relic. It's gonna need some repairs, which we're happy to do, but your warp drive is kaput. It's something we _might_ be able to fix, but I'm doubtful. And we don't just have them lying around. You're probably going to be stuck on Earth until you can dig up a new one."

"Well, you see…" Azra didn't know what to do with her hands. She side-eyed an Exo across the way tuck his thumbs into his belt and copied the motion. "We kinda… raided the repair yards in the spaceport. So we have a theoretically functioning warp drive. Or eight."

If she thought Aaron was beaming before, she was mistaken. His teeth were almost as dazzling as the Traveler. "You're pulling my leg. No joke?" Azra shook her head. "Where the heck was this place, it didn't get raided already?"

"Gibraltar. The uh, repair docks were in a different place than the rest of the compound. And supposedly it wasn't too big in the first place, so…"

He slapped her on the back, knocking her air out a bit. "Well, if you're willing to sell me seven warp drives, I will be a very happy man. I'll throw in repairs, if you'll let me have your old one, too. Can always scrap it for parts." Azra nodded and he went back to the clipboard with a low whistle. "Wasn't kidding about the new ones being full of surprises. Seven new warp drives."

Azra and Spark stood by awkwardly as Aaron got absorbed in his paperwork. About seven minutes later he looked up, suddenly remembering his guests. "Oh, yeah! The trade. You can't negotiate that, you're two weeks old." He scanned the hangar. "Uh, hey, over there! Miss Ana!" He waved his hand to catch the attention of a Hunter who stood talking to one of the other mechanics.

She broke off her conversation and wandered over. "What's up, Aaron? Who's this?"

"This here is my new favorite Guardian, Azra Jax." Ana looked her up and down. Azra pulled her hood up a little further. The woman wasn't tall, but she carried herself with a graceful confidence that was a little intimidating. "Azra has seven warp drives she's going to sell to me, but I'm not going to negotiate prices with someone so fresh. You know ships. I'm throwing in repairs and installation of one, and she's giving me seven besides and the old kaput one the ship came with. I'm thinking forty-eight k?"

Fifty thousand glimmer? Azra's eyes went wide. She only had two thousand from her two weeks of scavenging. The other two started to banter in the background, rapid-fire.

"Better make it sixty, Aaron. You know you can sell those back to some people at ten thousand apiece or more."

"Gotta make money somehow."

"Don't you get subsidies from the Vanguard?"

"Vanguard subsidies don't cover the weirder materials, or civilian craft. Fifty."

"Fifty-five, and a new coat of paint. Which Golden Age shipyard thought chartreuse was a good color for a spacecraft?"

"Gibraltar, apparently. Fifty-three, and the paint."

"You're getting the old engine, too."

"Fine, fine. I'll concede. Fifty-five k and a makeover." The two shook hands. Aaron turned and laughed, seeing the look on the Kinderguardian's face. "See? You haven't seen even _five_ thousand Glimmer in your life, I'll bet. What's your favorite color?"

"Uh…" Her mind went blank. Twelve days was not enough time to form opinions on colors, apparently.

Aaron tapped his pen thoughtfully on his chin. "That's a nice red cloak you've got there. How about red?"

Better than the green, at least. "…Okay."

"Okay?" Aaron turned to Ana. "Okay?"

"Okay." She confirmed.

Azra felt the sudden urge to give the other Hunter something as payment. She'd just haggled seven thousand extra glimmer and a repaint. Her hand went to the revolver- (which was Andal's, and also not worth anything), her knife- (rusty and notched, worthless as well), the shock pistol- (common, and the Hunter had some sleek weapons anyway), the rifle- ( _her_ rifle, her beautiful, precious gun), maybe her cloak- (but she already had a cloak, and a pretty one at that)…

Ana saw and shook her head. "No charge for services rendered."

"But…" It felt wrong, to receive without giving.

"How about we say you owe me a favor and call it at that?"

A favor, she could do. Azra grinned and held out a hand. "Deal."

"Azra Jax, was it?" The older Hunter took her hand with a nod. "Ana Bray. You look after yourself now. I'll see you in the field." She flicked her cape and strode off. Azra watched her in awe.

Aaron scratched his head, watching the Hunter go. "Real firecracker, that one. Come, I'll show you where you can transmat the drives, and then we'll see about getting you your payment."

* * *

"Alright, do it with your knee."

Shiro-4 balanced a knife on his left knee. His eyebrow-plates were pulled low, his throat lights shining cyan with some inaudible hum. He steadied himself on the opposite foot for a moment, then jerked his left leg up. The blade hung suspended in the air for a moment before gravity pitched it downwards. Shiro expertly flicked his left heel against the blade, setting it up to drive point-first into the ground. He bowed to the smattering of applause from the three Hunters seated on the bench in front of him.

It was just past noon in the Tower, and the weather was unseasonably pleasant. The four Hunters weren't the only ones lounging about the patch of grass that served as a park for the Guardians. It was a surprisingly normal sight, for a bunch of immortal adrenaline junkies. No space-bikes, no explosions, no sword fights. A group of Titans were holding armorless wrestling bouts with a small crowd gathered around to cheer them on (Titans), take bets (Hunters) and make snide comments about proper form (Warlocks). A trio further down the way was tossing a plastic disc back and forth, trying to pull off elaborate tricks. This group of Hunters was passing the time by playing the classic game of Mumblety-peg.

Shiro pulled out the knife and wiped off the dirt. "Okay, Andal's turn. Two hundred glimmer to do it with your mouth."

The Human frowned and shook his head. "No. Ew. I'm not putting my mouth on your nasty knife handle. Who knows where it's been?"

"Andal." Tevis said, less a question and more a judgement.

"Yes?"

"You're an immortal Guardian."

"And?"

"You can't get sick."

"That doesn't mean I want to eat some three-day-old ether residue that probably came from a Dreg's rear end." Andal crossed his arms defensively.

Pairs of Guardians or Ghosts strode by intermittently, watching the Hunters with amused expressions. A few even shouted encouragement as Andal balanced the knife pommel-first on his nose. In the distance, a Frame chided the Titans for tearing up the grass.

Cayde spotted movement from the corner of his vision. At first he dismissed it as just another random Guardian, but something about the silhouette was familiar. He squinted, (metaphorical) gears turning to try and figure out where he'd seen that person before. It clicked as Andal flipped the knife off his nose. "No way." The knifepoint sunk into the earth. Cayde scooted past Shiro, trying to get a better view, shushing the other's cheers. "Fellas, look who's finally shown up."

It was a Kinderguardian for sure, with the sparse gear and the look of amazement on her face as she studied a public drinking fountain. It took a few seconds for the others to place her underneath the dirt and the new cloak.

Andal gaped. "You're kidding me." He stood on his toes and waved his arms over his head, trying to catch her eye. "Kid! Hey, Newbie!"

That got her attention. She turned and scanned the park. Her eyes lit on the four Hunters almost immediately. Recognition bloomed on her features, followed swiftly by delight. She jogged over, the marvels of modern plumbing forgotten behind her.

Shiro whistled in approval as she approached. "Well look at you, all decked out in Fallen gear. Classic cape choice." (Surely his opinion had nothing to do with his House of Kings banner-cape. Nothing at all.) The four Veterans gathered around the rookie, inspecting her armor.

She grinned and pushed the hood back. "I nicked it off of a Baron. While he was still shooting at me."

Tevis reached out and pulled the hood back up. "Show some pride, Hunter." There were Warlocks present, after all. "You got a name yet?"

"Oh yeah. I settled on Azra. Jax. Azra Jax. And this is Spark." The off-white Ghost appeared to give a friendly spin of his shell.

Andal whooped loudly and held up a hand for a high-five. Now, Azra had never seen a high-five, much less given one. Yet the knowledge of high-fives surfaced in the vault of her memory. If there was one thing she'd learned so far, it was how to roll with the punches. Her hand slapped across his with a satisfying clap.

"Welcome to the A team. The best vowel, really."

Cayde groaned and rolled his eyes. "Just because some of us like a little variety in our sounds-"

Andal rounded on his fellow Hunter with surprising ferocity. "Shut up Cayde, you're on thin fucking ice. Swap out my bullets for rubber ones. Hell, hide my sniper rifle in the ceiling of the Hall of Guardians again. But you do NOT make fun of the A Team."

Oh. **A** zr **a** J **a** x. **A** nd **a** l Br **a** sk. But Cayde had an E. "Well obviously he's just jealous," Azra said. "Does this A Team have other members?"

Andal counted out on his fingers. "Well, me, for one. Zavala's an honorary member, 'cause he's Vanguard and all, can't fireteam it up with the rank-and-file. And Natasa-10, Baldr Saga, Ana Bray." Azra nodded in recognition of that one. "And you, Azra Jax. Hey, throw in Kabr and we've got a full fireteam of six, and someone to run ops." It seemed to dawn on him that he could actually make such a fireteam happen. A (frankly evil-looking) grin spread across his face.

Shiro's metal features did a surprisingly good job at showing dread. "Andal, no."

"Andal, yes. Andal Yas. Hey Charin, is it too late to chan-"

"Yes," his black-and-white Ghost interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"If you change your name to Andal Yas, I am leaving you." She seemed skilled at the art of the ultimatum.

Andal accepted it with a sigh. "How about if I run a mission with exclusively the vowel 'a'?"

The Ghost (Charin?) let out a considerate hum. Cayde butted in with a question before she could answer. "Does Natasa even count? I mean, 'ten' has an e in it…"

"But you don't spell out the ten," Andal rebuked, "it's just 1, 0. She counts."

"You just need a Warlock to balance things out."

Tevis apparently had his own qualms. "Bray has a y in it."

"Y can be a consonant! And it is, in Ana's case!"

"Isn't her full name Anastasia, with an I, anyway?"

"Official records have her as just A-N-A."

It seemed conversation moved fast in this group. Azra would have to be quick to get a word in edgewise.

Or she could just interrupt. "Hey, does Spark get to join, too?"

Andal nodded thoughtfully, scratching at his beard. "Well, seeing as his only vowel is an 'a', yes. Ghosts are invited." Andal held up a hand for the Ghost, and the Ghost did his best approximation of a high-five, sans fingers or hands. Cayde and Shiro flopped back down on the bench. Spark wordlessly returned to his Guardian's shoulder and hovered there, happy to simply observe the cheerful, chaotic discussion.

Azra nudged him. "Glad I didn't name you Cliff now, aren't you?"

That drew a double-take from Tevis. "You- you almost named your _Ghost_ -" His face went red. The Nightstalker was clearly trying to hold in his laughter, but his eyes met Cayde's accusing glare and the cause was lost. Tevis practically _howled_.

Cayde stood up abruptly. He sounded angry, but there was no tension in his pose. "Oh, so _cliffs_ are funny now? You wanna go, Larsen? Huh?"

Andal grabbed Azra's arm and dragged the Kinderguardian out of range, just as Cayde demanded Tevis _reach for it_. Tevis grabbed his knife and disappeared. The Exo drew and fired his hand cannon in the space of a heartbeat. The shot echoed off the buildings, turning the heads of nearby Guardians. There was a tense second of silence, but no corpse of Tevis revealed itself. Andal groaned and began to massage the bridge of his nose. "I swear," he muttered.

Cayde shifted, spun, and let out another shot. Tevis grunted and reappeared, a bullet hole in his upper arm and a knife in the opposite hand, right at Cayde's throat. A beat went by. Then another. Then Cayde laughed, and Tevis lowered the knife, and his Ghost appeared to hover protectively over the wound.

Andal threw up his hands in defeat. "I can't take you guys anywhere! What's the rule about firing ordinance in the Tower?"

"… Allowed as long as nobody catches you?" Cayde ventured.

Andal put his face in his hands. " _No,_ Cayde."

"And look, you've spooked the Newbie," Shiro pointed out. Azra stood poised on the balls of her feet, one hand tight on the grip of her knife and the other at the hilt of her shock pistol. Her eyes flicked between Tevis, Cayde, the gun, and the Guardians who had stopped to look. She tensed warily as attention was focused on her, then forced herself to relax.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Cayde flapped a hand. "Nah, s'cool. Everyone gets a bit jumpy. Shiro's right. Sorry, I guess."

Shiro turned his disapproving gaze to Tevis in turn, who shrugged. "Hey, it's not _my_ fault-"

Cayde elbowed him in the ribs, hard, making Tevis choke for a second. He recovered, then relented the point. "Alright, fine. Sorry. Just some friendly play is all, didn't mean to set you on edge."

Things seemed settled then, but a stern bass voice came on over the PA, startling Kinderguardian anew. Andal placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Let's all move somewhere else before Zavala gets down here and gives us all a lecture, yes? We'll buy you lunch, and you can tell us your story. Sound like a deal?"

* * *

The deli was dim, but comfortable. The hardwood floors shone in the muted yellow lighting. It was the lunchtime rush, but this seemed the kind of place people went to avoid the rush. The patrons (all Guardians, mostly Hunters) talked with inside voices. It was perfect for someone already feeling overwhelmed by the bustle of the City.

The food was also fantastic. The sandwich was 1) Free, 2) The best thing Azra had ever eaten (not saying much), and 3) A great excuse to pause her story and reorganize her thoughts. Azra wasn't the best storyteller (just a lack of practice, Spark assured her), but the source material was alright. Her walk to Gibraltar hadn't been boring by any definition. "-So then I cut the cape and let go. Baron wasn't pleased, but I managed to dodge him and get clear."

Andal scratched his beard, accidentally smearing a fleck of mayo on the dark hairs. "Why'd you cut the cape off him? Why not just shoot him and grab it when he couldn't put up a fight?"

She frowned. "I already smelled like dirt and river and mildew. Didn't want to smell like dead Fallen, too."

Cayde nudged the Nightstalker next to him. "Hey, Thrall-breath. Maybe you should take some tips from the Newbie." Tevis elbowed back, nearly knocking Cayde off of his stool.

Andal snapped his fingers at them. "Chill, you two! What is in to you today? Do I have to separate you guys? Or can you behave like civil people?" The two muttered apologies. Tevis took his anger out on his sandwich instead.

Azra continued. "In any case, there was this old military fort or something three days later. So many skeletons." She shuddered a little bit, remembering the air heavy with bone dust. "But I got a nice rifle out of the deal, so you can at least have your revolver back, Andal."

He was all shifty eyes. He was trying to hide something and failing hard.

Azra was not amused. "Yes I know it's the worst gun in all existence. Seriously. Once I took six shots at a Dreg only twelve paces away and they all went wide. Might as well go into battle with a staple gun." Cayde chuckled at that. Azra held out her hands and the revolver materialized in them. "Which is why you can have it back."

Andal just curled her fingers back over the gun. "Nah, keep it. Hand it off to the next Guardian you meet who's dumb or fresh enough to take it. That gun has a long history behind it. You're owner number six."

"Can I see your rifle?" Shiro asked. His optics had lit up as soon as Azra had mentioned her new gun, eager to get a closer look.

"Shiro's our resident gun expert," Andal explained when the Kinderguardian looked reluctant. "He won't break it."

* * *

**Adelante**   
_"Come on, we have places to be."_

* * *

She handed the rifle over. Shiro removed the magazine, ejected the round in the chamber, and went about expertly checking the gun. Kinderguardian and Ghost watched in fascination as went over every inch. "This is a nice piece," he said. "Golden-Age tech, old but in good condition, and you've cleaned it, at least. It's no sniper, but it looks like it's got a decent range on it." He looked down the sights, fiddled with the trigger. "Talk to Banshee, he'd give you a nice pile of glimmer for it." Shiro finally held the gun out. Azra had to keep herself from snatching it back. She'd grown a little attached to the weapon over the past few days. It wasn't crazy fast, but it packed a hell of a punch. And it was light.

Carefully, she took the gun and reloaded it. "Or, I could _keep_ it and _shoot things_ with it." She cradled the rifle and shuddered at the thought of selling it to some stranger. If someone else looked down the scope, they wouldn't remember the Captain at the spaceport, the thrill of electricity on her spine as he raised his rifle. "Plus, I'm rich now."

Shiro shrugged. "Well talk to Banshee anyway. He can point you in the direction of some good finds. And what do you mean you're rich?"

Spark spoke before Azra could. "We stole a bunch of warp engines from the repair facilities at Gibraltar and sold them to Aaron the mechanic. For fifty-five thousand glimmer, plus a new coat of paint for the ship."

Cayde whistled low. "That's not rich, but it's certainly getting there. 'Specially for a Kinderguardian."

Andal nodded. "Well, count yourself six thousand richer, because you get ten percent of the cut from the smash-and-grab on that Golden Age lab."

"Really? But I didn't really do anything."

Cayde shook his head derisively. "You watched the door. If you hadn't, then Tevis would have had to. Plus, we kind of abandoned you. Least we can do is pay you right."

"We did set up a transmitter at the rally site for you," Shiro explained, "But I can understand not taking the risk on that. You ended up far away."

Cayde slapped a hand on the bar and interrupted. "Aaaanyway, what we really need to get to, is what subclass you are. Did you figure that out yet?"

"Yes, I-"

"Hup, up up!" Cayde held up a silencing hand. "No spoilers. I'm taking bets."

Cayde's Ghost appeared over her left shoulder and whispered, "Old Hunter tradition. Cayde always bets Gunslinger."

"Four hundred glimmer each in the pot. I'm betting Gunslinger."

"…Nightstalker." Andal said.

"I'll go for Gunslinger as well," said Shiro.

Tevis eyed her up and down. "Bladedancer."

"I'll go for Bladedancer," called a Hunter from one of the tables.

"Gunslinger!" Another one shouted.

In the end, ten Hunters bet. Prevailing theory, five to three to two, was that Azra was a Gunslinger (then Bladedancer, then Nightstalker). Cayde gathered a small mountain of glimmer on the bar in front of him. "So, sweetheart, Nightstalker, Gunslinger, or Bladedancer? Void, Solar, or Arc?"

Azra tapped her fingers on the table restlessly. She knew the answer to the second question, but the first one… "Um, Arc, but…"

There was a chorus of cheers and groans. Cayde began making piles of glimmer.

"Um…"

Shiro clapped her on the shoulder. "Welcome to the club. No matter if you can't do the Blades yet, you'll learn soon enough."

"I don't think…"

"Hm?" Shiro actually looked at her. She looked… uncomfortable. Unsure. "You saw me at the lab. That's Bladedancing."

It was like ripping a band-aid off. "Yeah, I did something, but it's…not that."

Cayde overheard. "Hold up, so you're _not_ a Bladedancer?" All eyes turned to Azra. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She swallowed and tried again.

"It's Arc." Spark said. Azra thanked the Traveler for her Ghost. "We're not mistaken about that." She flexed her left hand and watched the electricity crackle between her digits.

Cayde nodded, but was still skeptical. "But you're saying you pulled a super that wasn't the Blades."

Heat was rushing to her face, now. The words came out in a jumble. "Not… exactly? At least if that's what it looks like, when Shiro did his thing back at the lab, it's not that."

"And you're sure you're a Hunter." Azra looked at Spark, and he bobbed fiercely.

Andal leaned in. "Then what is it like? You're a Hunter. You're saying it's Arc. Arc Hunters are Bladedancers."

"Why don't," Shiro interrupted, "You just show us?" He motioned to an open space between the tables. A couple Guardians began moving furniture for more room. Everyone in the deli was invested now.

"I get the feeling I'm just gonna end up embarrassing myself…" Azra mumbled, shoulders hunched. What if she wasn't a Hunter? What if it wasn't Arc? A million doubts and questions rattled in her skull.

Andal put a hand on her arm and spoke kindly. "Listen, nobody can really tell you how to be a Guardian. It's something you have to figure out for yourself. If you figured this out and it feels right, then it's meant to be."

Cayde was a bit less gentle, but no less encouraging. "Now stop being such a wimp. Do it. Do. It. Do. It."

A few other Hunters took up the chant, so Azra reluctantly moved over to the cleared space on the floor.

She'd never exactly meditated on her journey, but she'd found some clarity in the spaces between her breaths, between when she aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. When she walked, somewhere beneath the pull of muscles and the flow of blood, the universe spoke. She just had to listen and to reach out to it. She'd had no teacher. There was nothing to read but the clouds in the sky and nothing to listen to but the moaning of trees in the wind. So she'd bent her head and listened.

Her breath flowed in and out easily. Its passing left a buildup of power in her lungs, like a static charge. Pent up, rising within her. Her hands itched with sparks. Her body wanted to flow with the current, unstoppable, uncontrollable.

She knew this: To force the current was pain. To hold it back was death. But to _become_ the current, you could shape it…

The staff sprang into existence with a snap and a whir. She spun it once, twice, her feet moving on the floor like an old dance settled deep in her bones. She didn't want to stop spinning; the staff demanded motion and flow and violence. But she stopped anyway, aware of the all-too-breakable furniture (and people) in the room. Instead she focused on the balance of her feet pressed perfectly to the floor by gravity. Every breath seemed to electrify her further, setting her nerves jangling with energy and strength. She held the staff backhand along her arm and watched the tiny discharges crackling off into the air and floor around her.

There was dead silence in the room. Then, Tevis sat back against the counter and let out a long, low whistle. "I haven't seen a staff like that in… a century, at least."

"…And?" Azra asked. Nervousness made her teeth buzz.

Tevis rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Give the people back their Glimmer, Cayde. We've got a new Arcstrider on our hands, and no-one bet on that."


	6. Interlude: Brass Tacks

Oh, there’s a river that winds on forever  
I’m gonna see where it leads  
Oh, there’s a mountain that no man has mounted  
I’m gonna stand on the peak  
Out there’s a land that time don’t command  
Wanna be the first to arrive  
No time for ponderin’, why I’m a-wanderin’  
Not while we’re both still alive

Ends of the Earth – Lord Huron

* * *

September 2, 2868

It was a quiet day at the Tower, 'quiet' being a relative term. There was still plenty of shouting and bustling and preparing going on, but at least Azra had no obligations to be a part of it. She'd settled down in a little-used meeting room to do gun maintenance (since she still had yet to request a permanent space of her own). It was pretty far off the beaten path. The hum of the City was ever-present in her ears, like a mosquito's whine. The sound of distant engines and the whoosh of the air system always managed to set her on edge after a while.

Of course, being far off the beaten path didn't stop her from being interrupted. Andal poked his head through the door and spoke without warning. "How'd you like to do your first official Vanguard strike?"

Azra jerked involuntarily from surprise, knocking into the table. Gun pieces rattled. A spring lazily rolled off the edge. "Where did you come from?" She asked as she hastily began re-assembling the gun, if just to keep the pieces from scattering further.

"Sorry." Andal retrieved the spring. "But anyway, if you're down for it, there's a certain Dust Giant that needs killing."

She paused her assembly to eye him skeptically. "Dude, I'm like, a month and a half old. Bit early for strikes?"

He shrugged and rolled the spring between his fingers. "Gotta learn sometime, right? Besides, the rest of the group's top-notch. Real… _A-list_ material." He flicked the component back towards Azra.

She caught it and slid it into place. "Oh."

"So, are you in?"

"I mean, if you think I'd be useful." Azra had no delusions of her own ability. She knew she was greener than spring grass still.

"You seem like you're catching on to things." Andal gestured to the auto rifle she'd just reassembled. "You haven't spent the last month sitting around, have you?"

"You're lucky you caught us in the City," Spark said. "We haven't even spent two percent of our time here in the past three weeks."

Andal shot Azra a look. She shrugged. "A Warlock gave him a lecture on the power of statistics or something. Don't look at me." She frowned as she pulled the trigger. "Darn thing's still sticking."

"Give it here." Azra shrugged and tossed it to him. Andal jiggled the trigger, flipped the gun over, and pulled out a knife. "I've used one of these before," he explained as he dug around in a crevice in the stock, "Always gets gunk stuck up the—ah!" A chip of some hardened material fell out. He tested the trigger again, nodding in approval. He handed the rifle back to its rightful owner and bent to investigate what caused the blockage.

It was a shard of chitin. "Hive gunk. You've been off-planet?"

"I've been around," she said noncommittally, peering into the crevice in the stock. The main blockage was cleared, but there was still plenty of lint.

"Sounds like you're ready to me." Andal tested the tip of the knife and slid it back into its sheath. "Sundancer'll shoot you the coordinates. Strike starts at 0300 tower time the day after next. Don't worry, it's noonish local time. Zavala's got night watch duty."

"Of course he does." Azra was fast learning that Andal had a habit of following through on his crazy suggestions. You had to watch your mouth around him, lest you get pulled into his schemes.

"Hey, what can I say? I'm a strategic mastermind." He pulled some finger-guns and winked. "Still. See you there?"

Azra tried the trigger again, smiling when it operated smoothly. "Of course."

* * *

September 4, 2868

She transmatted to the rendezvous spot at 0220 sharp. Of course no-one else was there yet. Azra paced about, sizing up the terrain, going over her loadout one last time, flipping a knife and looking at her map.

But she was just too nervous. Her feet itched to run. She settled for taking out her practice staff, a long, straight ash branch, and working on her forms. There were no manuals on Arcstriding (to be fair, there weren't any on most Hunter arts), no helpful tips or tricks, no-one who knew better to correct her. So she'd made practice a large part of her daily routines. It seemed to be working; the staff felt more natural in her hands than it used to. She was finding herself off-balance less and less.

She put it away twenty minutes later when Andal arrived, 0245 on the dot. He greeted her warmly. "Why am I not surprised to see you here early?" He straightened her cloak and checked her gear, nodding in approval. "Ahh, I've seen that face before. You're nervous. Just chill. It's like that time at the lab."

She stared at him incredulously. "That time at the lab a Shank explosion sent me plummeting off a cliff to my death."

He waved a hand dismissively. "You're right, bad example. Just, be cool. Hang easy, watch our backs, take this as a learning experience. This isn't going to be hard."

The two Titans appeared next. They stayed off to the side, already absorbed in their own discussion. Ana Bray followed not far behind. She was even more intimidating than the first time Azra had met her, all kitted out for war. She wondered if the older Hunter remembered her.

Andal made the conversation easy. "Ana Bray, may I introduce you to Azra Jax? She's the one from that crazy grab we had in Old Portugal a month or two back."

Recognition lit on Ana's face. "Oh, hey. I thought your face was familiar from somewhere." They shook hands. (Azra was getting really good at this hand-shaking thing.) "We've met already. I haggled Aaron for those warp drives you brought in." Azra nodded eagerly.

Ana's Ghost pulled up what looked like a map of the surrounding area. "Who else are we waiting for?" she asked Andal.

"Natasa-10. You might know her. Voidwalker?"

Ana nodded. "Girl's got a good head on her shoulders. I gotta say, this is a real balanced team you've put together. We've got Titans and Warlocks, Solar and Void, the experienced, and the completely inexperienced." Ana said it lightly, off-hand, but it still stung.

"Hey, she's not _completely_ inexperienced." Andal sounded almost… defensive. Huh.

Ana put her hand on her hips and turned towards the newbie. "Tell me you've fought Cabal before."

Azra's eyebrows furrowed. "I've fought Cabal before." Not a convincing truth with nothing to back it up. She reached back in her mind to her last Mars excursion, tasting the sand, feeling the baking heat. "The ones with the shields, you shoot the middle to break it. And the Psions are annoying as all get-out. Them and their stupid jetpacks."

Ana looked thoughtful. "Huh. And you've been around, what, five weeks, right? Plus whatever it took you to get to the Tower in the first place." Azra nodded. Ana frowned. "They usually don't send Kinderguardians out to Mars right way."

"We weren't sent by anybody," Spark said, "We just felt we should get to know the system a bit more."

"Ah," Andal said, "So you've been _around_ around, not just around." His eyebrows arched absurdly high and then drew in low as he talked. He was certainly one of the more… emotive Guardians that she'd met.

Ana's face, for example, was rather cool as she asked, "Where have you hit up?"

Azra counted on her fingers as Spark enumerated their sorties. "Earth, obviously, and Mars, Phobos for a bit, Venus, Io, Luna, and Titan."

Andal was impressed. "Some seasoned Guardians don't even have that long a rep sheet. Nice."

"It's not like we explored anywhere very thoroughly," Azra explained, a little flustered by the praise.

"Vanguard ops are only approved on Earth, Mars, and Luna right now, you know." Ana said.

"Ah, when has that ever stopped anybody?" Andal drawled. "Who needs the Vanguard to tell you to go shoot some Vex?"

"I see you've got some very responsible role models here," Ana deadpanned. "Careful. You can get into some real pickles out there on your own."

Andal was affronted. " _You_ , telling _her_ to be careful? You've done more solo runs in the Cosmodrome than like, the next five people combined!"

"That's how I know it's so dangerous. Especially when you barely know one end of the gun from another."

"I-it's not like we were raiding or trying to kill Gate Lords or Ogres or anything," Azra said, "We just kinda bopped in, shot some things, maybe camped out overnight… to get the feel. Never learn anything if you keep to the safe side."

Ana nodded, lapsing into silence. Azra blushed fiercely and let her eyes drift to the ground. She still felt very out-of-her-element around new people. Especially ones she respected, like Ana Bray, or the Vanguard.

Andal, ever the diplomat, got conversation started again. "Soo… where'd you camp on Titan?"

"Nowhere." Azra shuddered in memory of the cold, rain-soaked moon. "I can say with certainty that's my least favorite place in the solar system."

Ana disagreed. "Worse than Phobos?"

"It doesn't rain on Phobos."

"There's no _water_ on Phobos."

"There's not exactly much water on Titan, either." Why humanity had decided to settle in the middle of a methane sea, she'd yet to puzzle out.

Ana shrugged. "I'll give you that."

A ship flew low overhead. A beat later a shortish Warlock materialized in their midst.

"Alright!" Andal clapped, drawing the attention of the two Titans. "Gather 'round, folks!"

They congregated in a rough circle. Andal went about introductions. "This is going to be a fairly standard search-and-destroy operation. Before Zavala gets on the feed and talks all of our ears off, let's do the brass tacks. I'm Andal Brask, Gunslinger and fireteam leader of the A-team."

He nudged Ana next to him, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm Ana Bray. Also a Gunslinger."

The Titan next to her nodded, face unreadable behind his helmet. "Kabr. Striker."

The next Titan seemed to have a bit more cheer than his compatriot. Maybe it was because his helmet was off. Maybe it was because he spoke more than two words. "I'm Baldr Saga, and I am your resident meat shield. Stay in the bubble. Please."

Natasa was eyeing Andal with suspicion. "I'm Natasa-10, and I am a Voidwalker. I am on to you, Andal Brask." Andal smiled and waggled his eyebrows.

Five pairs of eyes turned to Azra. Her heart pounded in her chest, but when she spoke her voice was steady enough. "I'm Azra Jax. And I'm… an Arcstrider?" Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. She knew it seemed like a lie.

"Arcstrider?" Baldr asked.

"Ooh! Oooh! Do the thing!" Andal prodded her in the side. Perhaps showing would be easier than telling. She sighed and reached for the staff, then reconsidered and took several steps backwards. Natasa had her arms crossed and a skeptical eyebrow raised. Andal grinned. Baldr was confused, Kabr was unreadable, and Ana looked almost bored.

She let the Light run through her arms with more force than was smart. The Staff almost exploded on her. Azra managed to work the energy out with a few forceful twirls. Left. Right. Left. She gripped the end of the staff like a huge sword and swung an overhead cut into the ground. Spiderwebs of electricity jumped out along the rock.

The letting go part, she wasn't so good at yet. It always felt like stifling death when she tried to end it early. But she wanted to conserve energy and it would be awkward standing there waiting for the Arc to fade on its own. So she held her breath and crammed the Light away in a box in her mind.

Andal was still grinning. Kabr was still stoic. But Baldr Saga was smiling, and Ana's posture had gone from 'bored and indignant' to 'relaxed and open'. There was a twinkle of interest in her eyes. "Color me impressed," the Gunslinger said.

" _Fascinating_." Natasa breathed.

Andal rolled his eyes and slapped a hand on his forehead. "Crap. We alerted the Warlock. Didn't I tell you not to show off in front of the Warlocks?"

"You just told me to show off, while we were in front of a Warlock!" Azra shot back.

Natasa walked over to examine her more closely. "Tell me, is Arc your primary attunement?"

"Uh… what?" Azra shifted, uncomfortable with the stranger in her personal space.

Natasa grunted and summoned her Ghost. "Your first Light abilities. The ones you use most often, feel the most comfortable with, are the strongest."

"I've been at this for like a month, so…"

The Warlock glared. Azra swallowed thickly. "Yes. Arc is my primal attachment, or whatever it was you just said."

"Primary attunement." The Warlock made a note on the holographic display her Ghost was projecting. "Was this the way your abilities naturally expressed themselves? Did someone teach you? Did you try the Bladedancer way first? What did you know of Arcstriders before you first expressed this?"

The questions came too fast. Every time Azra opened her mouth to answer, the Warlock bulldozed through with another one. Azra's heart beat loud in her ears. Natasa-10 took a step forward. Instinctively, Azra took one back, hand drifting towards a knife, shoulder turned towards the threat, balance shifting to the balls of her feet in readiness.

Kabr's voice cut like a whipcrack. "Natasa. Cut it out." All eyes turned to him. "There will be time for that later. Right now we need to focus on the mission."

Natasa looked ready to protest, but Zavala came on the comms like the voice of God.

"Fireteam… A-team."

Andal chuckled. "Just A-team is fine, Zavala." 

The Titan cleared his throat. "Very well then. A-team, report in."

Azra backed away from the Warlock and took metaphorical cover near the two other Hunters. Everyone was doing final weapons checks now. Azra pulled out a knife and tested its edge.

"Everyone is here and in position, two klicks from the base." Andal said as he cheerily loaded his sniper rifle.

"Good. Your primary target is… Valus Ta'arn of the Dust Giants. There's a typo here."

"Let me guess," Natasa said dryly, "Valus is spelled with an a instead of a u." Andal shrugged slyly at the Warlock's unimpressed stare.

"Indeed. In any case, this base is a key stronghold of their northern front. Your job is to get in, kill the… Valas, and get out. Damage to the base and the Dust Giant troops are secondary concerns. We have other teams prepared to take advantage of the sudden loss of leadership. Recent air reconnaissance shows the Valas's ship is still in the airfield. Destroy it, then continue into the base and put down Ta'arn. Good luck, A-team."

Andal cut his feed and turned to the group. "You heard Zavala. We, the A-team, are going to raid a Cabal Base on Mars to kill Valas Ta'arn."

"Base has an e in it," Natasa pointed out. Comprehension spread through the group.

Baldr stared open-mouthed at the senior Hunter. "Andal. You _didn't_."

Andal summoned his Sparrow. "Oh, I _did_. I always follow through on my promises."

The rest of the group followed suit, shaking their heads as they slid on helmets. Andal gave a battlecry before revving his engines and shooting off: "For the supreme vowel!"

"What are we going to do with that man," Ana Bray muttered, just loud enough to be heard on the comms.


	7. Interlude: Explain

All you have is your fire  
And the place you need to reach  
Don't you ever tame your demons  
But always keep them on a leash.

Arsonist's Lullaby – Hozier

* * *

January 16, 2869

"Is that all?"

Osiris didn't even bother looking up from his datapad. "Perhaps. I must check the archives for one last text. Stay here."

Azra pressed her lips into a thin line but made no vocal objections. Osiris walked off, muttering to himself. His Ghost spared Azra a last look as the pair disappeared through the door.

Azra heaved a sigh and leaned back against the wall. Her fingers tapped restlessly on the examination table while she tried to quell the anxiety that simmered in her stomach. She felt practically naked without her cloak, armor, and weaponry. Logically she knew that Osiris meant well, but the spotlight of the Warlock's focus only made her more uneasy. "Why did I agree to do this?" She murmured.

Spark hovered low over her shoulder. He'd been as much of a focus of Osiris' study as Azra had. "Natasa is very persistent. And you were curious too, admit it."

"This has gone beyond basic curiosity," she replied. Her eyes scanned the room for the hundredth time, taking in the exits (two doors and a window), the equipment, the pristine floors.

… And the scorch marks she'd left on the pristine floors. Azra felt a sense of petty satisfaction at her minor destruction. That'd teach him to think twice before trapping Hunters inside all day doing 'science'.

Well, probably it wouldn't. Azra would be surprised if those scorch marks weren't thoroughly studied after she left. And 'trapped' wasn't the right word. She had agreed to this. Spark was right about her being curious. For all it felt right to her, the Arcstriding wasn't a _normal, _thing.__

"Speaking of curiosity…" she muttered. The indistinct murmur of voices floated through the open doorway to Osiris' study.

Spark didn't need to be asked twice. He floated on silent lifters towards the door, disappearing from realspace as he got close.

Talking with Spark in her head was Azra's newest trick, and one that she hadn't mastered yet. Her face scrunched up as she focused her thoughts. _Are they talking about me?_

 _Yes,_ Spark thought back.

* * *

O: It just doesn't make any sense, Sagira.

S: Isn't it possible she just has a different way of looking at things? She did teach herself how to use the Light before she got to the City.

O: No, no, that's not how it works. Plenty of Guardians have spent much longer alone before coming to the City, and they all adhered to the basic class/subclass models of their time.

S: Maybe she's just weird. Or maybe her Ghost hasn't updated his database for a century and a half.

O: The Light itself has changed. Even Hunters who were once Arcstriders took up Bladedancing. All of them, almost a hundred and thirty years ago. It changed for every Guardian, the same way, over the course of a few years. But it's almost like she completely ignores all of that.

S: I still don't see why this is such a big deal.

O: Even if someone were transported here from two centuries ago, they should be a Bladedancer now, not an Arcstrider.

S: I thought we disproved the time travel theory, anyway.

O: It's almost as if her Light is ignoring causality completely! Guardians are paracausal, not acausal. We bend the rules, but they still apply to us.

S: Well, maybe she's ortho-causal, or omnicausual.

O: Explain.

S: Just because she's not following our set of rules, doesn't mean she's not following any rules at all. Perhaps she's from a different timeline or a different dimension.

O: One would still expect her Light to adapt to our axioms. Light reacts to its surroundings. It is not produced by Guardians, it is only the fuel for our abilities. A prism cannot create a complete rainbow if there is an absence of blue light. The fact that the change affected all Hunters suggests a common overriding factor. The only common thing between all of them is that they were Hunters.

S: And we're sure she's a Hunter?

O: She fits the archetype almost _too_ perfectly.

O: …

O: Wait. Pull up the chronon/chroniton results again.

O: The peaks are much weaker, but… Sagira, do you see it?

S: I can barely see anything over the background noise.

O: This shares a remarkable similarity to Vex patterns.

S: Are you saying the Vex might have a hand in this?

O: I am saying the Vex might have a hand in _her_.

S: Osiris, that's crazy. The Vex can't tamper with the Light. They can't create Guardians.

O: Perhaps not, but we should still remain vigilant all the same. Let's get another chroniton measurement, to be sure.

* * *

Spark reappeared in front of Azra a few seconds before Osiris entered the room. He was… upset? What had they said?

Spark sent her the feelings of _caution_ and _secret_. A brief image of the sun setting and rising again. _Later_.

* * *

_Tevis jerked a thumb across his throat. Azra held her breath, counting heartbeats, as the Hobgoblin lumbered by. Beside her, Quantis Rhee was similarly frozen._

_Its footsteps faded and Tevis rose smoothly from his crouch. He put a finger to his lips, then spread his hands palms-down in the air before him, reminding them for silence. They'd come very close to alerting the Vex._

_He pointed at himself, then Azra, then Quantis, dragged the curled fingers of one hand over the back of the other, tapped his left middle and index fingers on his right, made a circling motion with a raised index finger, twisted his hand into a signed R and shook it._

_Me, then Azra, then Quantis, slowly, knives only, ready?_

* * *

Azra kept her face schooled as Osiris approached. "So?"

"I'd like to get another few readings, if you don't mind."

"Of course," she grumbled. Azra did mind. It had been nearly six hours now. The fluorescent lighting was harsh on the eyes, and being poked and prodded wasn't very entertaining. She felt simultaneously overstimulated and bored out of her mind.

Osiris motioned for her to stand in the 'test area' again, still absorbed in his datapad. The man had barely even looked at her this whole time, so obsessed with his data. Azra complied with a sigh and an eye-roll. Osiris pushed a few buttons and one of the sensors hummed to life. "We will do the second to last sequence. Push your Light as far as you can without summoning your Staff and hold it there."

Oh, this exhausting one. Azra would stand there, crackling like a Tesla Coil and trying her best to keep herself on a leash. And inevitably she'd accidentally tip over the edge and Osiris would complain that he didn't get a good enough resolution and make her do it all over again.

Azra's stomach grumbled. They were past lunch and approaching dinner now. She bit down on the aggravation, pulled the Light to her hands—but yelped when they flared _orange_ instead of blue. Azra took a step back in surprise, shaking her hands to try and get the fire off. "Holy mother- ah!"

Osiris was frantically adjusting the machine's settings. "No, no, keep going. Have you displayed Solar abilities before?"

"What? No!" The fire grew larger in her hands. This was Solar, then? A bitter smell stung her nose as the flames spread up her arms.

 _Okay, steady_. Solar was emotion, so freaking out wouldn't help her control it. She settled her feet, and, staring at flames that burned without burning, focused on the sensation of her Light. She breathed deeply and shoved everything else aside.

And the fire went out. "Ahhh… whoops?" Apparently what helped her focus the Arc just put Solar out. She gave her hands a good shake, but the flames were long gone.

Osiris was rapidly inputting commands to the machine, muttering, "Why Solar? Why now?"

"I don't know! It just kinda happened?"

He looked up at her, making eye contact for the first time in hours. Looking at _her_ , not her readouts or her Light, but Azra the person. He hesitated before he spoke, hands paused above the display as he considered her. "I need the truth from you," he finally said. His gaze made her feel small, insignificant. He was talking about something bigger than Azra. And he didn't trust it, or her.

She broke contact and stared down at her hands. No burn marks. No soot. They did feel warm and limber, like she'd exercised them. Honestly? "…I guess I'm tired. And annoyed. This hasn't been very fun."

Osiris snorted. "You aren't here to have fun. You're here to learn about your abilities," he chided.

Azra looked back up at him, eyes sharp with indignation. "Yeah, well, I haven't leaned shit."

Osiris turned his gaze back to the readout. "And apparently, neither have I."

Spark spoke up. "Osiris. We came here as a favor. And we came here for help. We have been truthful with you. If you're not going to be truthful with _us_ , then I think we should leave."

"What are you-"

Spark sounded smug as he floated over to the Warlock. "You're not as covert as you think you are."

His shell expanded like he was talking, but Osiris' and Sagira's recorded voices came out instead.

_"This shares a remarkable similarity to Vex patterns."_

_"Are you saying the Vex might have a hand in this?"_

_"I am saying the Vex might have a hand in_ her."

"What?!" Azra said. "That's not… _what_?" She was dumbfounded. _I guess this explains why Spark was upset earlier._ "You think I'm… _involved_ with the Vex somehow?"

Osiris laughed, but he didn't sound happy. "And you, Little Light… you are not nearly as clever as you think you are." He took a step towards Spark, Solar welling up and overshadowing his frame like trailing banners flapping in the wind, and Azra saw wildfire and the scorching light of the Sun stripping the atmosphere to shreds and planets boiling to plasma in the might of a supernova—

She physically intervened, moving between the Warlock and her Ghost. "Are you threatening him? 'Cause we're gonna have a problem if you're threatening him." Her eyes stayed glued to his face, but she focused on his hands in her peripheral vision. If he reached for a weapon… well, what could she do, really? She was unarmed.

She relaxed marginally when, instead of producing a gun from the folds of his robe, Osiris crossed his arms and looked down at her in contempt. His Light coiled around him confidently. "I am certain I can handle any problems you decide to make for me." And… fair, a Kinderguardian like her wasn't much of a threat to Vanguard Commander Osiris, The Strongest Guardian Who Has Ever Lived™.

Azra swallowed and shifted her weight, excruciatingly aware of her defenselessness. "Exactly. I came here for help. You found… something. I don't know. I'm not a threat. I just want information. If there's something wrong, I want to know so I can fix it."

He looked at her, considering his options. It was a bit infuriating. She'd shown her belly, so to speak, recounting her personal history, letting him poke at her, staying in his dumb lab doing his dumb tests. Yet here he was considering if he'd even keep up his end of the bargain and tell her the results of those tests. A stubborn bit of Azra decided that she was done with this whole endeavor, even if he came clean.

He didn't. His eyes said _wariness_ and his stance said _menace_ and his Ghost over his shoulder, staring at her unblinkingly, said _no apologies_. "Your life has been filled with suspicious coincidence. I can't be sure you aren't being used for some greater purpose," he said, "even if you yourself mean well. Besides. You have yet to prove to me that I should trust you."

"Then I've got no reason to be here," Azra replied. Spark materialized her cloak as she reached for it. She pulled the camo-green around herself, pulling up the hood to shield herself from the Warlock's piercing eyes.

A small fleck of regret made her pause at the door, looking back. Sagira watched them, but Osiris was already refocused on the sensor readouts. Azra spat on the ground and flicked her cape disdainfully before she left.

* * *

January 17, 2869

"Is that all?"

"Hey," Azra groused, "It's more than I could do yesterday." Practicing Solar had been a great way to vent her frustrations from Osiris' lab session. Now she could catch her hands on fire at will. She punched Cayde on his arm, smirking in satisfaction when he yelped.

"You did walk right into that one, Cayde," Shiro said.

A frame came over and reminded them in an anxious voice that there was no fighting on the concourse. Azra apologized profusely (the frames were _really_ good at making her feel guilty) and Andal ushered the three of them away.

"Speaking of walking," he said casually (though he couldn't hide the eager smile on his face), "I heard you _walked_ out on Osiris the other day."

Cayde stopped short and looked at Andal with mock disgust. "Dude. We have got to work on your transitions."

Andal, for his part, was having too much fun pretending to be affronted. "Whaaaat, come on, it worked fine. I wanted to talk about it, and now we're talking about it."

"No," Azra said, "now we're talking about your terrible linguistic skills." She cleared her throat. "But yeah. I kinda stormed off. We were pretty much done with the tests, anyway."

Andal scratched his beard as they started walking again. "Yeah, Osiris has a certain _way_ with people. But hey, at least you discovered your Solar side."

"Even better now," Cayde continued, "we can tell people Osiris annoyed someone so much they forged their first Golden Gun from sheer irritation."

"Uh," Azra said, "you guys know I didn't actually pull my first Golden Gun yet. Just a little fire-hands."

Didn't seem to bother Andal. "Every story is true if you tell it right. Plus, you'll be pulling Solar supers by the time the sun goes down. Personal guarantee."

Cayde stopped them all again with an outstretched arm. "Whoa there, buddy. I thought _I_ was gonna teach her."

"Well Tevis isn't back from his mission yet, so the bet's still up."

Azra rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "Hold up. You guys _bet_ to see who would teach me the Golden Gun?" She hadn't even considered that someone could instruct her in this. Of course there were no takers for the Staff, but she'd thought-

"Well, you see…" Cayde started. It was the traditional Hunter beginning to what was sure to be a convoluted tale.

Andal picked it up. "You see, I had a bet with Sai Mota that I could take the most bets with people in a day before they noticed I was taking bets for a bet-"

Oh no. "Sweet Traveler above." One always forgot how convoluted Andal's schemes got until you were neck-deep in them.

Andal continued on, unperturbed. "-which I won, by the way-"

"But before anyone figured it out-" Cayde continued,

"-I'll never forgive you, Shiro-"

"-Me and Andal made a bet that if Tevis actually shot a gun on his mission-"

"-You know, instead of sticking to bladed weapons _per yuje_ -"

"-That Andal would teach you the G.G.-"

"-But if he didn't, then Cayde would."

They were both smiling a little too wide. "Why does it feel like you two are trying to sell me a used Sparrow?" Azra asked.

"Probably because they've got something else riding on their bet and they want you to decide who wins," Shiro answered. Cayde and Andal's exchanged look confirmed the theory.

"So, let me get this straight." Azra clapped her hands together and drew in a breath. She turned her fingers to point accusingly at the pair. "This is all part of some meta bet-within-a-bet whose results are now up to me to decide because I got pissed off at the Vanguard Commander while Tevis was still off on-mission."

"Won't be back for another two days," Cayde helpfully supplied.

Hm. "What if I say neither of you wins?"

Cayde looked stricken. "You don't want anyone to teach you the Gun? Not… that you need it, I guess, you've been doing fine with yourself so far…"

"The bet was for who _got_ to, not for who _had_ to," Andal said. "I know the field hasn't been overflowing with mentor figures so far, but we Hunters watch each other's backs. Nobody else will."

"Oh," Azra said. A small awkward silence filled the space between the four of them. "Uh, what was the other part of the bet for?"

Cayde fidgeted with the hood of his cloak. "Dinner at E's," he said. Shiro whistled in appreciation. E's was the fanciest restaurant in the City that would let Hunters in. (The fancier ones were fancier because they didn't let destructive quasi-immortal adrenaline junkies at their cutlery).

Azra tallied her budget in her head. Between that haul of Scorch Cannons and all those Vanguard scouting gigs at Mare Cognitum, she could afford a few thousand Glimmer on extravagance. "I've got a compromise. You guys teach me the Golden Gun, and I'll buy dinner at E's."

That perked Cayde right back up. "Deal."

Andal nodded. "Good compromise. You free right now?"

* * *

How to Shoot a Golden Gun in Twelve Easy Steps:

A short essay by Spark, Ghost of Azra Jax

 

Step 1: Think about something that makes you angry, annoyed, upset, or "generally pissed off at the current state of the universe". Anger is a driving force, for both good and evil. Get driving.

Step 2: "No, really _think_ about it. Stew in your emotions. Dwell."

Step 3: "Sweet Shank on a stick, don't dwell that much! You look about ready to murder someone."

Step 4: Your fire is your passion. Anger has lit the spark, but remember that you're not shooting for anger's sake. You control the heat, not the other way around.

Step 5: Now that you've got a blaze, all you have to do is direct it. Call it through your arm.

Step 6: "That's how guns work, too. Contained explosion. Bullet's pushed by all the heat and pressure, and its's got nowhere to go but down the barrel. So you just gotta force the fire out instead of exploding and dying this time."

Step 7: Make a gun out of your fire. Brandish it to the world. Let 'em know what's coming to 'em, get shaking in their boots.

Step 8: It's no different than a normal gun. You don't kill with the bullets, you kill with your heart.

Step 9: Aim the gun at something you want to kill. It's the first shot that matters, not the second or the third. Shoot first, and shoot true.

Step 10: "Don't point that thing at me!"

Step 11: If your gun has disappeared before you can actually shoot it, go back to Step 1 and try again. Repeat between sixteen and twenty times, depending on if you believe your bullets have to hit anything for a 'success'.

Step 12: "Not gonna lie, you kind of suck at this."


	8. Go

Time out, let's stop and think this through  
We've all got better things to do  
Then talk in circles, run in place  
Answers inches from our face

Behind Closed Doors – Rise Against

* * *

It's not as if the Battle of Twilight Gap came without warning. We knew something was coming. The Fallen houses had been gathering troops for weeks. Attacks on our outposts had increased in frequency and strength.

It's not as if the City wasn't prepared for an assault. Our best and newest technology sat on the walls, right next to the old Dark Age hard-hitters that had seen the us through the years after Six Fronts. The walls were strong.

_We_ weren't ready. The Guardians weren't ready. There had been decades of relative peace. It had been centuries since Six Fronts. How many Warlocks hadn't left the City for years? How many Titans had only fought in small engagements? How many Hunters hadn't fought alongside other people at all?

Nothing attacked the City directly in those days. There were easier targets to try or other enemies to deal with first. The Fallen had never given up their hunt for their Great Machine, though. Perhaps they were waiting for us to grow complacent. Perhaps they just needed the right leaders with the right amount of pragmaticism to allow for cooperation. Perhaps they just reached the point where they thought they could do it logistically. With our new allies in the Reef and our research into the Eliksni language, we may actually know someday.

What we do know now, is that in the April after a particularly warm (southern hemisphere) summer, Houses Devils, Kings, Winter, and Wolves gathered together in an unprecedented show of cooperation and force. They launched a desperate, ruthless attack on the City walls. The House of Wolves was intercepted by the Awoken of the Reef, but the other three would be enough to sack the City, once and for all.

Or they would have been, if not for a few brave souls who rallied at key moments. The stories will be told for centuries to come. The scouts who stopped the House of Winter's early flanking maneuver. The two Firebreak commanders and their sortie to recover the northern passes. Lord Shaxx and his desperate attempt to hold the line, and his counterattack that broke the back of the enemy.

In this book, we will examine the full course and history of the Gap, from its root causes, to the buildup, to the events of—

_Azra closed the book with a sigh._

* * *

April 21, 2871, 07:01

It was five days into the Battle of Twilight Gap (as it would come to be known later), and Azra Jax didn't know what to do.

It was quickly becoming obvious why all of the more senior Hunters had rushed into the field the moment the Fallen reached the walls. She was too new, they said, (though she had nearly three years under her belt at this point). She'd lag behind on the ground. Alaia Ruse has given her a sniper rifle and directed her to the northern perimeter.

Azra knew now why the Hunter Vanguard looked apologetic. The wall was no place for a Hunter. She fought and fought and fought, but there seemed to be no end to the Fallen that held the mountains around the Last City. The gun emplacements fired near-constantly, trying to take out Fallen artillery that was always on the move, creating a perpetual backdrop of thunder. There wasn't one quiet place between Gheleon's Watch and the North Gate. Azra slept (when she could) on the wall, and ate on the wall, and spent long hours staring down a sniper rifle on the wall, trying to account for the tremors of the anti-aircraft guns.

Two days ago, she'd gone with a group to repel a House of Kings spearhead. They'd almost been overrun. Now her sidearm was a twisted hunk of metal and her armor was torn in several places. Her hands shook and her ears rang, despite Spark's repeated reconstruction of her cochleae. She didn't know how Titans could live in this universe of battle, just sitting and waiting as the enemy attacked again and again. Darkness weighed on her like heavy chains.

She relaxed for a moment, watched the sun rise over the city for the fifth time, and came to a decision. She'd had enough of the wall. Sure, beyond the wall was dangerous, especially for a lone person. Fallen positions changed by the hour. Skiffs and Walkers abounded, and the mountain passes made for difficult terrain. But out there she could actually do something, have some sort of an impact. Alone and traveling light, she'd be able to slip between the Fallen emplacements easily enough. Her hands shook too much to shoot the sniper well in any case. She was just wasting time and ammo, really…

The deep voice of an Exo interrupted her thoughts. "You there, Hunter! What's your name?"

Startled from her reverie, she turned to face the speaker. He was impressively tall and suitably intimidating for a Titan. His armor was even more scarred than hers was, the rents hastily repaired or simply welded over. It was no mere Dreg or Vandal that had made those gashes. His mark was unfamiliar to her, red with black and white chevrons.

"Uh… Azra Jax," she replied. The Titan nodded, expression concealed behind a mirrored helmet. He reminded her of Kabr, if Kabr were six foot four. Spark whispered that this was Miles-4, a high-ranking commander of the Firebreak order.

His voice was even, but his words were judgmental. "Where do you think you're going?"

* * *

The Hunter didn't answer his question immediately. She turned instead to survey the battle-scarred land to the north. Miles-4 knew that expression, that posture. Though she leaned against the parapets, the lines of her figure were tense, weight on the balls of her feet. Her chin was tucked low and her eyes combed the terrain below. This Hunter wasn't going to stick around very long. Miles knew there were two reasons to break from the line during a siege. She didn't look like she planned to retreat.

Hunters were hard to find on the wall as of late. They crowded sniper nests in the peaks and old fortifications, transmatting in to replenish their ammo or lick their wounds as their positions were overrun. The rest seemed to be running in fireteams on the field. The ones he could find were greener than spring grass. This Hunter was wearing sub-par gear and toted a city-standard sniper rifle, but the scout slung over her back was a piece of art and her Light hung about her in a competent way. She'd have to do.

His Ghost gave him a submachine gun. He tossed it over to her.

* * *

Serendipity

_"There are no mistakes, only happy accidents."_

* * *

She caught it and shot him a perplexed look. He gestured to the empty holster at her hip. "You have a rifle, but you'll need something for short-range. You're with me. How well do you know the terrain north of here?"

Understanding dawned on her face, and she straightened to attention. "Well enough. The passable parts, at least. I'm not much of a mountain climber."

"The Fallen can have the peaks. I want at their artillery. I want room to maneuver."

She nodded, a smile spreading on her features. "That, I can get you."

* * *

Miles-4 made no prefaces or introductions. He just walked up to his fellow commander's workstation and said, "Baldr, I found a guide." Said guide tagged a few feet behind, looking very out of place amongst the bulky Titans.

Baldr looked up from his map. He recognized the slim figure half-hid behind Miles-4. "You found Azra Jax. Why are you going on a mission like this?"

She shrugged, adopting the standard self-effacing Hunter manner like a shield. "I'm not just going to sit inside the City for the duration. Figured I'd at least go cause some chaos." Baldr studied her though narrowed eyes, unconvinced. She seemed unsettled. Her hands were fists at her sides.

"She says she knows the passes," Miles-4 said.

Baldr was still skeptical. "She's also two years old."

"Almost three. You think you're gonna find anyone better still here?" Azra argued. "Plus, I was heading out anyway."

The foolhardiness of it surprised Baldr. From the times they'd fought together, Azra had come across as reserved and calculating, not one to rush headlong into the fray. "You wanted to break through the Fallen lines yourself?"

She shrugged, one-shouldered. "Hunters don't do battle lines. We do communication, command, strategic points, supply. It'd be easy enough to sneak through. I know personally of at least twenty Hunters who are out on sabotage missions right now."

That explained where all the veterans had gone. "I wasn't aware the Vanguard had ordered large-scale sabotage operations," Miles said.

"Good thing none of them waited for orders, then. And how is this shebang any different from what they're doing? You're smashing instead of sneaking, but still." She stepped around Miles, gesturing with a knife. "Take out some Walkers. Free up a pass or two. Cut their anti-air so we can bring in more support. Typical unsanctioned strike."

The two Titans looked at each other, then back at the Hunter.

"You've made your point."

She spun the knife and re-sheathed it. "Cool. Who else is in this shindig?"

* * *

Azra was coming to realize that these Firebreak people were absolutely, positively, certifiably insane.

It was _great_.

They smashed through the Fallen lines like they were nothing more than wet paper. No Captain went unquestioned. No outpost went unstormed. It became clear early on that Azra was out of her league in terms of skill. For every Fallen she killed, the Titans would put down twenty more. She was frankly astounded at the things these people managed to survive. Joxer and Theus-7 held a contest to see who could punch a Servitor to death first (Theus won). Callisto physically wrestled a Baron and came out on top. At one point, she stood by and watched open-mouthed as Miles singlehandedly dismembered a Walker. Azra felt more than a little inferior.

But still she led the way like no Titan could. It was her that found the back paths, the hidden nooks, the scraps of cover the Titans would have otherwise ignored. She saw why some people liked the whole command business. She'd point at a sniper nest, and ten minutes later it would be nothing more than smoking rubble. More than a few times she'd had to go ahead alone to set up an ambush or a distraction. Those were nervous-making moments, alone in the middle of the enemy positions, about to draw their fire.

The Titans always came through, though. More than once she rezzed to the sight of one of them bent over her, offering her a hand up and thanks for dying in such a distracting way.

They blazed through the passes, destroying any fortification that could give the Fallen an advantage, leaving broken Walkers and even a Skiff (Joxer claimed it was a lucky shot) in their wake. The body count soared into the hundreds, then the thousands. Spirits were high.

Then, as the sun was creeping close to the horizon, they ran into a snarl.

* * *

April 21, 2871, 16:56

Miles-4 leaned back on the retaining stone wall, wondering how old it was. It might have been constructed once to direct the flow of this now-dry river. Maybe it served to mark the border of a Warlord's property back in the Dark Ages. Maybe it was even older than that, built by some remote farmer to keep his flocks from wandering back before the Traveler had ever touched this world.

In any case, it served well enough now as cover against enemy fire. He and Lilavati were pinned for the time being, which was alright, because Miles needed a moment to think. This Walker was a very important target, but a full-out charge would be suicide, and unsuccessful suicide at that. There wasn't enough cover near-

The bushes rustled. The two Titans raised their weapons, only to lower them again when their guide's form emerged from the foliage. She slowly made her way towards them, pressed flat against the dirt. She only peeled herself off of the ground when she was safely in the shadow of their stone wall, whereupon she immediately pushed back her hood and pulled off her helmet. "I need to get one of these with better environmental controls," she complained, wiping sweat from the back of her neck. "Callisto said you wanted me?"

Miles-4 nodded. "We have a problem." Perhaps her… unusual Hunter approach would be useful.

"And the problem is?"

He gestured for her to peek over the covering wall, and she did. A Fallen Walker hunched several hundred meters up the streambed. It was hard to get a good look at, sheltered by the steep embankments on either side. Its front and rear were guarded by a ridiculous amount of Fallen troops.

"That Walker is special," Miles briefed, "Very heavy armor. We can't get close enough to hit with rockets. Besides, we think it has point defenses. It's also got a railgun that's targeting our gun emplacements back in the City."

Azra was incredulous. "We're five miles from the Wall."

"Railgun."

She shook her head as if to clear it. "Right. So we can't get it with handheld rockets, can't do enough damage with guns. Not much cover up in these parts. What else do we have?"

"Explosives, but we have very little that can take it out in one blast."

Interest glimmered in her eyes. "We have very little? So we do have something."

Miles-4's Ghost pulled a device from the air. It was a slim rectangle, perhaps four centimeters wide by twelve long and one thick. It was a shiny silver. Miles turned it over in his hands as he spoke. "I don't know why I still have these. It's a grenade prototype from Crux/Lomar. Unreliable. Too big an explosion. No remote detonation, but you can't throw them far enough to survive. Basically useless."

She nodded, grinning. "Well, it solves our Walker problem."

Lilavati-12 shook her head. "It will solve your living problem too, if you use that," she rasped. "It'll take a lot of Light to bring you back from that explosion. The survivable blast radius is sixty meters."

"No, I've got an idea. Watch this." Azra took the device and turned it this way and that as she inspected it, nodding to herself. She put it in between her teeth like a knife and began to scoot towards a stand of trees a dozen meters away.

"You'll still have to hit a crevice or joint, the shielding on that thing is incredible," Miles advised.

She bobbed her head, smiled somehow through the grenade, and held out a hand for her Ghost. The machine hovered briefly over her palm, like they were having a mental discussion, and then a Sparrow materialized on the ground. The hunter slid on board and turned down the thrusters until the bike sat nearly flush on the earth. Then she pushed off with her feet, gliding near-silently towards cover. The two Titans watched until she vanished in the shade of the myrtle grove.

Her Ghost stayed with them. "She wants a video," it explained. Lilavati rolled her optics. Typical Hunter japery.

They spent several minutes slowly eating through the Fallen ranks from a distance. They saw hide nor hair of their Hunter. Her Ghost reassured him that she was sticking to cover when he asked. It was still trying Miles' patience. The Fallen were getting bolder. Then-

"Heads up!" Called the Hunter's Ghost.

A Sparrow suddenly shot out from the undergrowth several hundred meters up the streambed. It didn't head straight for the Walker, but a boulder on the bluff that stuck up at an angle.

* * *

Azra's stomach lurched as she went sailing through the air, rising towards weightlessness. She pulled back as hard as she could. The world rotated like a time-lapse of the sky at night. She needed a clear shot straight down at the Walker for this to work.

There! The grenade was in her hand, finger already on the button. The topside of the Walker slid into view like the moon edging over the horizon. She picked the spot where the Walker's head section met its body and threw the grenade like a knife. It flashed as it tumbled end-over-end.

Did it hit? She didn't know. The other side of the gorge was coming up fast beneath her, and she hadn't fully completed the rotation-

She pushed the engines to maximum. The boost hit suddenly, jerking the rear side around just in time to make contact with the ground. Now she'd over-rotated and had to hit the space between 'not getting away from the fiery explosion of death' and 'doing one and a half backflips'. She threw her weight forward, turning the tip into a wheelie. The blast wave from the explosion brought the front of the bike down with a jolt that knocked her breath out.

She'd survived the grenade, at least. Perhaps the hole the Walker had ensconced itself in helped shield her from the blast a bit. But the excitement wasn't over yet. She weaved between rocks as the sky lit up in a plume of fire. She had a lot of momentum to burn.

With no warning, the form of a person appeared in her path. They were crouched between two bushes, distracted by the (rather spectacular) explosion. Azra skidded hard, left foot almost dragging on the ground behind her as she turned perpendicular to her momentum. She didn't hit them, but she did spray them with a cloud of dirt. Lucky for him, the Hunter was wearing a helmet. The minimalist design and color scheme were familiar. Maroon and a pale yellow on white and black.

Tevis's voice emanated from behind the featureless mask. He sounded very unimpressed. "You're goofy-footed. And your cape is on fire."

She reacted the sane way, yelling and making quick distance from the notoriously explode-y Sparrow. She pulled off the fabric and threw it to the ground, stomping out the flames. Then she pouted. The once-shimmery blue was now dirty and charred. She scooped it up with a sigh and shrugged it back on.

Tevis chuckled. "Always bring a backup cape, kiddo. Never know when yo-"

A tinny voice interrupted from inside Tevis' helmet. "That was AMAZING!" The Nightstalker winced.

He growled. "Cayde. Have you gone deaf from the explosion?"

Spark linked the two comms networks together, letting her hear the tail-end of Cayde's reply.

"-ing with old age, you know."

"Since when did you guys get here?" Azra asked. Always better to change the topic before Cayde and Tevis got into it, unless you wanted them to get into it. They could be very entertaining.

"Is that Azra Jax on the comms?" That was Andal.

She had the feeling she was about to get into trouble. "Yyyeeeeess?"

"What are you doing-"

"Azra Jax? Report in." That was Miles-4.

"I'm fine, Miles. Did you see that?"

" _Miles-4_? Never mind Azra, what are _you_ doing out here?"

"We are on a sortie."

Several people began speaking at once.

"I didn't think-"

"Was that you-"

"What the hell-"

"ENOUGH!" Roared Miles. Silence reined on the feed. Then, "Everyone, rendezvous at these coordinates. We are wasting time." Spark appeared over her shoulder, mentally reassuring her that he'd got a good angle.

Azra shrugged and got on her Sparrow. Tevis summoned his and did likewise.

* * *

April 21, 2871, 17:27

They came up to the dilapidated fort (more like an old barn at this point) only a few minutes later. They could take a direct path, with no Fallen in the area to avoid anymore. Azra hopped off her bike, managing to do so a bit more elegantly than last time. The Sparrow dematerialized before it could hit anything. Inside, the rest of the Titans (and four Hunters) stood. Azra recognized Andal and Cayde by their capes, but the other two were unfamiliar. Miles-4's face was unreadable behind his mirrored helm. Tevis and Shiro (who'd caught up along the way) ducked through the door behind her.

Miles spoke first, addressing his scout. "That was very reckless."

"I thought you were Firebreak," Azra replied. The Firebreak Order was supposed to be all about recklessness. Azra averted her eyes and dusted as much soot from her front as possible. Being scolded by a Titan was not a new experience.

There was a beat of silence. Miles shifted his weight. "I am, which is why that was a compliment. Nicely done. No more Heavy Walker. We mopped up the Fallen stragglers. But-"

"But," Andal said, "this isn't a good position. And sunset's coming soon. Miles and I are in agreement. We gotta pull out."

There were some protests from the Titans. The Hunters stayed silent, but their postures spelled dissatisfaction.

"We got the Walker, that's what matters," Baldr assured the group. "We've cleared a lot of land. Killed a lot of Fallen. Destroyed a lot of fortifications. But we're beat-up and running on empty. We've made the way for a counteroffensive."

"But—" Lilavati-12 said.

Miles-4 shook his head. "Dying here will do no good. We pull back. Inform the Vanguard of our success. Send out fresh troops to take this area, now that it has been softened up."

"Unless you'd rather spend the night outside…" One of the unfamiliar Hunters began, drawing a marked reaction from the Titans.

The other new Hunter (they obviously knew each other, from how close they stood), chuckled. "Traveler forbid you have to camp in hostile territory."

* * *

April 21, 2871, 17:41

Things went sour startlingly fast. One minute, they were making good time, relief and satisfaction at a job well done making them all a little giddy. The next moment death was breathing down their necks.

They were almost to the transmat zone when the Skiff darted by overhead. Azra pulled her rifle and turned to deal with the Fallen troops it would drop— but it wasn't just Fallen troops. An entire Walker detached from the ship's underbelly. The ground shook as it landed.

Walker meant anti-air. Anti-air meant their jumpships weren't safe here. But the Fallen were closing in. They didn't have time to split and rendezvous somewhere else. The sun set early in the mountains.

Already the Fallen were drawing close, trying to encircle their group. Frankly, there were just too many of them. Everyone was exhausted and low on ammo. " _Dying here is not an option,_ " Spark whispered. " _It's too Dark, there's not enough Light for all of you if you get wiped._ " Tevis was swearing, which was never a good sign. Cayde was quiet, which was an even worse one.

Azra dodged out of the way of stray Scorch Cannon fire and looked to the leaders for direction. She had no idea how they were going to get out of this. The two Firebreak commanders were bringing up the rear. They were the closest to the threat. Ahead of her, Andal just kept running, piling shot after shot into the Fallen blocking their exit. The gap was closing. Fear sent an electric thrill down her spine.

The two commanders looked at each other, and the Walker behind them. Then Miles put a hand on Baldr's shoulder. Baldr nodded and gave Miles his hand cannon.

"What—" One of the other Titans began to ask. Baldr shoved them forward. Tevis turned and fired his Bow at the machine. It barely slowed.

"Go!" Miles yelled. Cayde grabbed Azra's wrist and pulled her along. Pike fire bit at their heels. The Walker loomed, its guns aiming for the Guardian ships overhead. Miles roared. The Walker stumbled.

* * *

_Kabr shouted. Azra had never heard him raise his voice before. The taste of ozone was on her tongue. Kabr's lightning cast jittering shadows on the rock._

_Too slow, too unfocused- a Fanatic exploded, close, singeing her and sending shrapnel into her side. She shook her head and turned her gun up to the blinding light of- whatever those things were. They were important._

_How did she know that they were important?_

* * *

Eleven Guardians entered the transmat zone. The ships zoomed by at maximum safe speed.

The Walker never fired. The last Azra saw of Miles-4 was him standing there, a hand cannon in one fist and lightning arcing from the other as the Fallen closed in.

* * *

April 21, 2871, 17:55

The dominoes seemed to fall like this:

They transmatted down on the Wall. It was quiet there for the moment. The sun was beginning to set now between the mountains to the left. Here, the Guardian assault had managed to push back the Fallen, if just for a bit. Azra was still in shock.

It grew worse when she looked out over the scattered Fallen bodies on the field, only to realize that some of them were Guardians.

A lot of them were Guardians.

She even recognized a few capes. Bile rose in her throat.

Then, more Fallen came swarming over the ridge. Four Walkers accompanied them, trading fire with the artillery placements.

And then another group of Fallen, and four more Walkers.

Then another. And another.

Skiffs scuttled by on the horizon, dropping more troops. Two Ketches hung low between the peaks.

Guardians engaged from the south. They came straight from the field, in ragged lines and small clusters.

The Titans in the fireteam ran for the rally station to the northeast, eager to trade and repair their gear and get back out in the fight. Earn a little retribution, they said.

But then an anti-aircraft cannon was hit.

An explosion ripped into the wall a second later.

And another. And another.

Spark repaired her ringing ears as she stood there, unable to process. Shockwaves sent her stumbling for the parapets, if just for something to hold on to.

Stone crumbled and steel twisted with an unholy shriek. Walker guns pounded the structure again, and again, and again. Slowly they fell silent as other artillery and Guardians took them out or forced them back.

But now there was a weak spot in the wall. The Fallen rallied. The fireteams remaining on the battlefield broke formation and scattered.

The six Hunters still with her all looked at each other. Then they put their helmets on.

"Fall back, Azra. Get yourself to the rally point," Andal commanded.

"But-"

"You're too new. Your fights will come. But you'll die out there if you go."

"But-"

"Go."

And the six of them summoned their Sparrows and went racing southwest along the wall. Azra was left in their wake, ash on her tongue and Miles-4's, and now maybe Andal Brask's, last words ringing in her ears.

Then a Ketch emerged from behind a mountain, and the world was lit with a blinding flash. The ground pitched beneath her, then—


	9. Do Not Advance

I'm as empty as a ghost  
Tired in my feet  
I was never innocent  
I was only me  
I run thru the mountains  
See what I've done  
This is my consequence  
Me and my gun

Lest We Forget – The Brothers Bright

* * *

April 21, 2871, sunset

Azra came back to Lord Saladin's voice. It echoed strangely in her helmet. Or maybe that was her ears still ringing. "Fireteam leaders: Do not advance on the Wall. Fall back to the Ridgeback District."

The chatter of gunfire sounded out around her, reduced to muffled pops. Azra choked on dust. She could make out the sound of Fallen war cries over the roar in her ears. They were close. Spark lit her head with a flash of Light, and the sounds of battle came back into focus.

"I repeat: All teams rally at the Ridgeback District. Do NOT advance. The City is lost."

Where was she? She lifted her head. Her visor was cracked. Spark paused transmatting rubble away to fix it. She was surrounded by chunks of gray stone and twisted rebar. The air was hazy with smoke and ether.

Spark moved the last of the rubble pinning her legs and Azra gathered herself up. "We have to get out of here," the Ghost urged, "we're on the wrong side of the Wall."

"Can we—"

"Comms are spotty, the whole command structure is in disarray. They broke the Wall. Guardians are scattering. Lord Saladin and Zavala have called for a retreat. I think… this is it. I think the City is done for."

She looked up at the remains of the structure in anguish. Sure, she'd never loved the City as much as the Titans seemed to, but… There were a lot of people there. Now their best line of defense was in shambles.

A flutter of white drew her attention. There, almost twenty meters away, caught in the edge of the rubble field- a scrap of fabric.

Azra scrambled for it. Spark got there first and began to scan. "Don't-" he started, but Azra was already pulling away rocks. The body was face-down and trapped under a slab. She inched the stone bit by bit until she could tip it away, revealing a lanky and slim figure tangled up in a pale cloak. The blotchy red stains showed off the lacy embroidery very well.

A shard of something brightly colored poked out of the dirt by her foot. Azra bent to investigate and pulled a fragment of lime green shell from the earth. She scanned the ground, suddenly seeing the starburst pattern of shattered Ghost. Azra's body went numb as the realization hit her. This Guardian wasn't coming back. And she _knew_ him. Aldur. Gangly, blue-haired, overly cheerful. He was- Traveler- only what, eight months old? Azra had given him a tour of the Tower.

Spark hovered in front of her face. "He's been dead for hours, Azra, before the Wall fell, there's nothing you could have done to help him. We have to get going. The Fallen are closing in."

Azra kneeled and worked to untangle Aldur from his cloak. He was limp and unresisting as she rolled him over. Impulsively, her hands went to the latches to his helmet, wanting to see his face- but her fingers froze on the mechanism. Perhaps… perhaps it wouldn't be the best idea-

"We have to move, now!" Spark barked. Azra realized she was hyperventilating. The screech of an overclocked Shank dying brought her back to reality. Close. The enemy was close. The pragmatic part of her brain took over, and she scrambled to her feet, and ran.

Her radar was filling with enemy signatures even as she cleared the rubble and sprinted north along the perimeter. If she didn't get out, she'd be nothing more than paste to stain the Fallens' boots. The sane bit of her that fought against every death demanded she run faster, even as she tripped over bodies. Fallen or Guardian? She didn't pause to look.

There was no cover. The Titans kept the area outside the Wall clear from vegetation. Made it harder for things to sneak up. Also made it harder to sneak away. She summoned her Sparrow. She had to get clear before the enemy closed in. She could regroup herself and figure out a plan once she was safe.

* * *

April 21, 2871, sometime before midnight

Andal had been right, Azra realized. In her two (nearly three) years of this life, she'd raided Fallen establishments, performed strikes on Cabal bunkers, she'd even had a time of scouting Hive tunnels and Vex installations. But this war was a ship of a different color. Command had broken down. Spark got no updates on troop positions beyond what his radar could reach. There were no other teams to coordinate with. The lookout spots and sniper nests had all been taken. So, once again, Azra found herself completely on her own, in territory turned unfamiliar by night. And she was not up to the challenge.

She died, and died, and died. The Fallen brought Darkness with them, but Spark always managed to scrape together enough energy to get her back up again. The ghostly glow of the Traveler was a constant visual feature on the horizon, even as dusk turned to night. At least she didn't get lost.

Worse than dying was getting wounded, crawling or hobbling for her life as Vandals closed in. She thought she knew pain and fear before, but each failed escape attempt taught her lessons anew. She fought like a wild animal, with guns and then with Light when the ammo ran dry, until her jaw clattered with shivers and her hair stood on end with the force of the Arc. Every Walker, every Captain brought her to a new low. She'd escape or kill one, only to stumble right into another. And another.

The topology was rugged and unforgiving. The night was dark (and Dark), and cold. Azra gave up trying to kill Fallen parties, gave up trying to achieve any sort of tactical victory, no matter how small. She ran, and hid, and despaired the end of the City Age with shame and guilt. In her moments of respite (always too brief), she wondered after her friends. Had the Firebreak Titans rallied, or were they similarly scattered and alone? What of the Hunters? As Azra drew from reserves of strength she didn't have, she hoped that they were doing better than she was. She looked up at the dim light of the Traveler, growing dimmer and dimmer with distance, and prayed that they were still alive.

But the Traveler remained silent.

* * *

Sometime in the night of April 21, 2871

Azra was optimistic about her chances with Blackwater Pass. It was treacherous, hedged in on one side by a rock wall and the other with a two-thousand-foot slope. Very little cover. Also very little Fallen. It overlooked a lower valley, almost half a mile down, which was much easier terrain. Who would bother with the goat track?

She would bother with the goat track. She had very few options. She cursed herself for not practicing her climbing skills more. Several times the track was washed out or blocked, and the only way she could progress was by clinging to the stone wall and inching sideways. Spark only dared the dimmest of lights to help her see, too aware how visible it made them in turn. She scraped along, forcing her cramping fingers and forearms to get her across this gap, then the next…

…Until she slipped. That was always the rub, wasn't it? You could hold on, until you couldn't. One moment, Azra was searching for a foothold with her right toe, then the next moment her left foot slipped and she was falling. She rolled and tumbled down the mountainside, swearing the entire time. She tried to catch herself with her Light, but she couldn't tell up from down and just pushed herself sideways.

Surprisingly, she didn't die. She just crashed into a stand of evergreen trees at thirty miles an hour. Winded, she lay for a second and tallied up her luck. Lucky: a patch of trees broke her slide. Unlucky: the trees also broke something in her hip, shoulder, and at least bruised some ribs. Her head wasn't feeling too good either. Standing would be tricky. Lucky: trees provided cover for her. Unlucky: trees could also provide cover for Fallen. Very Unlucky: trees were actively providing cover for a band of Fallen, and she'd practically fallen into their laps.

Azra grabbed a tree trunk and pulled herself up. She choked back a scream as her right leg straightened. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, hard, seeing stars. The metallic taste of blood and pain washed over her tongue. She needn't have bothered stifling her shouts; apparently they'd already heard her. A shock bullet whizzed through the air and splintered the wood above her head. This would probably end in another death, then. No use risking Spark to heal her with munitions flying around. But it was getting perilously Dark, so far West and in the middle of New Fallentown.

She had a couple magazines' worth for her SMG. She put it to good use on the Vandals that came for her. She even killed most of them before the gun jammed. Azra tallied up her luck again and came to the conclusion that maybe she'd actually make it out of this one alive. The two remaining Fallen had only spears.

But she couldn't see straight. The Captain, who lagged behind her troops, decided this was the perfect moment to intervene. And, unlike Shock Blades, which she could dodge or wrestle against, this Captain had a Scorch Cannon.

"Look out!" Someone called. Azra, not one to argue, hit the deck as rockets blazed over her head.

But now she was prone. She heaved herself to a kneeling position as the Captain sprinted towards her, howling.

Her hand went to a knife. But it was too late-

There was a clap like thunder, a blinding flash of orange light, and three shots rang out through the grove. A Golden Gun.

The Captain and the two Vandals died, reduced to ash on the wind. Azra slumped back to the ground, shaking from pain.

"You alright, there?" The stranger asked. Boots crunched over the broken stone near her.

Her Ghost answered for her. "She's torn some tendons in her hip." Spark hovered protectively in realspace now. "And broken a few ribs. Cracked skull. And a separated shoulder. I've got this." Azra bit her cheek and made a couple of undignified noises as he knit flesh and bone back together.

When Spark was done, the stranger offered a hand to pull her up. She took it gratefully. She was sore and tired; the echoes of past wounds and deaths hadn't yet faded.

The man was taller than her. If the Golden Gun didn't give away his class, the sleek helmet and cloak did. Spark scanned him, and by the light she saw his gear was old but in good repair, bleached several shades by sun exposure. He stood with that easy confidence a lot of veteran Hunters held.

Azra groaned and pulled off her helmet, swearing to herself for the hundredth time that day that she was getting a new one as soon as she could.

… Which might be a while, with everything. She looked fretfully towards the Traveler's glow in the distance.

"You out here alone?" the Hunter asked. Right, company.

Azra nodded and cleared her throat. "Haven't seen anyone else for hours. Last I heard they were pulling back to the Ridgeback district, but…" She shrugged. "The network's down. The City could be burning right now for all I know."

* * *

_She gathered her good leg underneath herself and lunged towards her Ghost, just as another explosion sent bits of glass and burnt matter raining down around her._

_Even as the ground shook, her mask took the opportunity to stop filtering. Choking, she threw it off, only to gag at the acrid and smoke-filled air. Her eyes watered (not entirely from the atmosphere) as she carefully prized her Ghost out of the debris._

* * *

But what could she do? She was a greenhorn. A rookie. A tenderfoot. How the hell was she supposed to do, well, anything, against an army that big?

The stranger pulled off his helmet as well. "Can't believe I forgot my manners. Jaren Ward." His shape in the dark showed a strong jaw and short hair in disarray from the headgear. They clasped hands. Jaren's grip was steady and sure.

She nodded. "Azra Jax."

"Pleasure to meet you. Where are you headed?"

She got about clearing the jam in the SMG while Spark searched for more ammo. "I…. don't even know at this point. I was on the wall when it fell, I've just been… trying to get clear, I guess. And dying. A lot." Her throat was dry, but the canteen was empty when Spark materialized it.

Jaren offered his. "You're a long way from the Wall now," he stated. His Ghost peeked over his shoulder. Azra felt the weight of its judgement on her shoulders, but Jaren's voice was kind.

"I was gonna…" Sabotage? Create a diversion? By herself? She swallowed thickly as panic rose in her chest anew. "Oh, Traveler, I don't know. I'm in so far over my head I can't even see the surface. I should be back at the rally point, but… I'm freakin'… two! I never even _fought_ house Kings before this, now they're… Miles is dead, hell, for all I know, everyone is dead, _I'm_ probably gonna be dead for real soon at this rate, and—and—"

A steady hand settled on her shoulder, and Azra realized she was crying. Ashamed, she scrubbed the tears from her face.

But the other Hunter didn't scold her for running. "Listen, kid, I know this is scary. These are dire straits, here. Perhaps the darkest times we've seen since Six Fronts. Darker, even. But no matter how Dark things look, they're never hopeless, alright?"

"O-okay. Alright." Azra still trembled. But Jaren was so confident and calm, she let herself relax. Slowly, the tremors stopped. The troublesome bullet casing sprang free from the chamber.

Jaren reloaded his own weapon, a well-worn but shining hand cannon. It reflected the Traveler's glow in the distance. "Now, you were up on that pass for a reason, and you fell for a reason. Why don't we make it a good reason?" She nodded. He nodded. "You got all the way up here, so I'm assuming you can find your way back? With the 'net down, you're probably the person who knows best what the Fallen in these parts are up to. Think we can get to the City without stirring up too much attention?"

"Why do you want to go back?" Azra asked, knee-jerk. Back was death and ruin.

"Besides doing my duty to try and help or retake the City?" Azra blushed again in shame. Jaren shrugged. "Well, believe it or not, you're not the first Hunter I've met today. A couple of Bladedancers from Dead End Cure- you know D.E.C., yeah? Well the two of them had a pretty interesting tale to tell about a Firebreak team clearing out some passes. Didn't seem like they ever got to report back. Sounds like something the brass should know about, if they're planning a counterattack. One of them even gave me a map."

"Oh," was all Azra could say. Now she felt doubly stupid. Of course with command in disarray, nobody would know…

Spark was excited, at least. He spoke up. "We can do one better than a map. We were there. Miles-4 brought us on as a scout."

"Really?" The other Hunter looked to Azra for confirmation.

She nodded. "Crazy coincidence, I know. But yeah."

"Well I'll be." Jaren chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, the universe works in mysterious ways. Another reason to go." He slid his helmet back on. "So, you in?"

She held her own helmet in her hands for a few seconds, tracking the scratches and dents with her eyes. Jaren's holstered hand cannon glimmered in the corner of her vision.

* * *

_"And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about Jaren. He was a good man. One of the best I've known."_

_꙰ stopped. "You knew him well?" He was trying to keep the interest out of his voice. Of course Jaren's past would be important to him._

* * *

"Yeah," she said, putting it back on. "I'm in."

* * *

Sometime in the night of April 21, 2871

Jaren Ward was a very dangerous man. He fought like an angel of war. His gun never missed. He went about things in a steady, almost mechanical manner, as if he had all the time in the world. Even as Marauders charged him, his posture remained easy and sure. Azra fought messy, hitting bodies and closing range with her knife when her aim failed her. Jaren walked through the Fallen like a wraith, gun firing at a steady tempo, barely even pausing to reload. More than once, Azra stumbled into a bad position, only for her attackers to fall around her, a perfect bullet hole in each head.

Jaren, to his credit, never once put shame on her (for her ineptitude or her flighty nature). That didn't stop the tide of guilt rising in Azra's throat. Here was an example, a Guardian who saw the danger and said _of course I'm going in_. Who did so not for pride or rights to judgement, but from a genuine sense of purpose. He seemed too good to be real, but there he was, crouching close in cover or two steps behind as they sprinted between it.

* * *

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2];  
ASSOCIATIONS: Fallen; Jax, Azra; Twilight Gap; Ward, Jaren;  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:0.1]: I know you're not the one I should be apologizing to, but… I want you to know I'm sorry I ran instead of helping.

[u.2:0.1]: It's understandable. You're young, and inexperienced, and you were alone. And you're trying to make it better now, yeah?

[u.1:0.2]: Yeah. I just… I guess I've been a little lost.

[u.2:0.2]: Well, better find your way again, 'cause I got no clue where we are at this point.

[u.1:0.3]: Not that way. I can get us back to the City fine.

[u.2:0.3]: We talking about metaphorical directions, then?

[u.1:0.4]: It's been almost three years and I still don't know why I'm doing this. Any of this.

[u.2:0.4]: Well, that's a real common problem for a lot of Guardians. I know you've probably had people talking off your ear about this stuff, but if you want my take-

[u.1:0.5]: Please.

[u.2:0.5]: It was always my reckoning that you 'n me, we're not here for ourselves. You already had your own life. All that is still waiting for you somewhere, but you don't have it now because you're not supposed to be living a life of selfishness.

[u.2:0.6]: Humanity's had it rough. This system has had it rough. We all need to pitch in where we can to make things better. Especially us. We been given this chance, this gift, to be alive again. We should use it to help people.

[u.2:0.7]: I'm not saying you should be careless with your life, 'cause it's still got value. Just, when you're considering all your options… it's not your place to put yourself first.

[u.2:0.8]: For Titans, that means sacrificing your personal comforts for a life of duty and service. Warlocks think the best way to help people is by learnin' all they can, setting our house in order, and turnin' that knowledge back on our enemies.

[u.2:0.9]: But you and I ain't Titans or Warlocks. Our paths are looser. Plenty of us would be out here anyway, even if we had no obligations. But why you do things matters. It does. Matters more than the things themselves, sometimes.

[u.2:1.0]: So every time you clear out a Fallen nest, do it so those Fallen can't hurt nobody anymore. When you map out a new place, do it for the people coming there after you, so they'll know their way. Take supplies back to the City for the people living there, not just for the glimmer you'll get.

[u.2:1.1]: The Titans can break under all the pressure they put on themselves. Warlocks can go crazy or get obsessed with things they rightly shouldn't. Us Hunters' biggest flaw is that too often, we forget why we're doing what we're doing.

[u.2:1.2]: So remember that the end goal of all of this isn't your own personal gain.

[u.2:1.3]: Sorry, I'm not normally one to ramble so much.

[u.1:0.6]: No, thank you. It… helped. I think.


	10. Those Who Fell

Ashes to ashes  
Dust to dust  
Honor to glory  
And iron to rust  
Hate to bloodshed  
From rise to fall  
If I never have to die  
Am I alive at all?

Apocalypse State of Mind – Aviators

* * *

April 22, 2871, Morning

Finally, _finally_ , dawn came. The sky lightened, fraction by fraction, until the glow of the Traveler and the newly-risen moon paled in comparison. The occasional bold bird let out a few morning calls. The sun wasn't above the horizon, and probably wouldn't crest the mountains for another hour yet beyond that, but the world gained definition and color once obscured in darkness.

Jaren Ward's eyes were blue. His hair was a dirty blonde. His face held the barest hints of smile lines, when it wasn't screwed into a look of concentration. Azra's cloak was bloodstained now, along with the soot and dirt and ether. At least it helped her blend in. Her armor was battered to hell.

Worrying, the ground around them was trampled with obvious Fallen prints, headed in both directions. Several large groups had moved through the small valley the two Hunters now traveled. The prints were older, at least, dried in the streambed mud. Maybe that meant the Fallen had cleared out of this area. Maybe it meant that they were overdue for a run-in with a patrol. There were no other human prints.

"Let's take a rest," Jaren proposed when they came to a sheltered bend. The air was quiet, at least for the time being. The ravine they were in blocked any sound of gunfire that might come from the Wall.

"I'm fine. I can keep going," Azra protested. Only partially a lie. Her whole body ached. Her legs were unsteady beneath her. But she _could_ muster the strength to carry on. She hadn't slept for nearly thirty-six hours at this point (not much of a feat, for Guardians), and she'd been on the move for over twenty of those. She was bone-weary. But not at her limit.

Jaren shook his head. "A break will do us both good. 'Sides, we need to figure out a plan. We're getting close."

Azra shrugged and settled down, back against a rock, SMG on her lap. Spark made short work of healing her aching calves and clearing the sleep deprivation from her eyes. Jaren Ward crouched next to her. His Ghost projected a map in the air.

"What's your Ghost's name, by the way?" Azra asked unthinkingly. A second later, she cursed her loose lips. Both the tan machine and its Guardian turned curious eyes towards her while she scrambled to backtrack. "I mean, you don't gotta tell me, it just seems a little rude to not ask after all this time."

Jaren smiled. "This is Toho," he said, "'s from this old legend 'bout a mountain lion, back in the Americas." Azra nodded at the small machine in greeting. Spark gave a friendly bob. Jaren's eyes moved to Azra's Ghost, who lingered in realspace. "Turnabout is fair play. What's your name, Little Light?"

"I am Spark," the Ghost replied.

"It's 'cause he gives static shocks when you touch his shell," Azra added.

Spark made a scandalized noise. "You said it wasn't about the shocks!"

A small smile touched Azra's lips. "I lied." She held on to the small bit of warmth the humor ignited in her chest.

Jaren snickered. "Well, it's a fine name in any case. But let's get back to it."

Azra shook her head and pulled out a bit of jerky to chew on. "Right, right. We're about… here." She pointed to the projected map. They were more west than north of the City, following the path of a streambed nearly dried up with the recent drought. "We keep heading down this river channel, we'll come out hereish."

Jaren studied the map with narrowed eyes. "Getting over the Wall isn't going to be easy, if transmat is down. Where's the Gap at?"

"Right about here." She pointed, marking a spot about a klick northeast. "But last time I was there, the Fallen were everywhere. It's gonna be real hard to get past them."

Jaren frowned thoughtfully. "Then why don't we follow the original path, and see what we can see when we get out of the woods? If we can't get over, we'll keep heading 'round 'til an opportunity arises or we can get a ping on the comms."

Azra shrugged. "Same thing works if there's too many Fallen at the Wall – we can keep to the screen of trees and circle 'till we find a weak spot. Sounds like a good a plan as any."

* * *

Of course, things didn't go as planned. Azra and Jaren got up, dusted themselves off, started down the channel, and immediately ran into a massive House of Winter party headed up the other way. No less than three Captains directed the dozens of Dregs and Vandals. Two Servitors. At least ten Shanks. There was no heavy machinery, at least.

The Fallen seemed to be just as surprised as the Hunters at running into enemy forces, but they quickly made their decision. One of the Captains warbled a battlecry and lowered his shock rifle at the pair.

Jaren drew his hand cannon, quick as thought. Azra readied the SMG-

* * *

_Shiro reloaded his sidearm, then to Azra's surprise, holstered it, leaving his hands empty. The Skiffs dropped close to the ground and disgorged their cargoes of Fallen. "Stay here, hold the door, and shoot any that get close," The Exo ordered. She nodded, feeling a strange mix of terror and excitement close her throat. "Relax," he drawled, "You'll be fine."_

* * *

… and after a moment's consideration, put it away. Instead, she summoned a grenade and lobbed it at the Captains. She narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth at the crowd, even as they opened fire. Energy surged in her limbs. To hell with low profiles, she decided. It was light now, she could see. She could dance.

"I call the Servitors," Jaren shouted. He was already backpedaling for cover.

"I call—" Azra began, but she choked on the rising surge of electricity in her chest. Whoops. The world shimmered. The smell of ozone filled the air.

Jaren's eyes were wild-wide. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she said raggedly. She couldn't ignore the call, now that she'd picked up the phone. "Just don't shoot me, ai'ght?" The Staff was suddenly _there_ , electrifying in her hand. She moved.

* * *

When she came back to herself, the field was full of dead Fallen, the shattered pieces of machines, and a very surprised-looking Gunslinger. He shot the last Dregs, one-two-three, and reloaded with a flourish. "Can't say I've seen a Hunter pull that trick for a long while. Wow. Never was too good with the 'become the lightning' thing myself."

Azra leaned on her knees and tried to catch her breath. "I'm not the lightning, I'm… path. Current. Difference." Her breath reflected hot back on her face, stifling her. She pulled off her helmet. "Damn this thing."

Jaren surveyed the destruction she'd wrought and hummed to himself. "Still, pretty impressive."

"Pretty exhausting." Sure, her body felt fine once her breathing steadied and Spark cleared away her fatigue, but her mind felt frazzled and drained. "…But necessary."

Jaren's gaze moved past the bodies and down the dry stream's path. "Let's keep going. We're almost there."

"Yeah," Azra said, looking up to the pale gray sky. The rippled clouds above were beginning to show the first hints of pink. "Almost there."

* * *

April 22, 2871, Sunrise

They came to the end of cover just as the sun peeked over the mountains. The Traveler above had wrapped itself in the early morning light, shimmering in ethereal golds and pinks and oranges. The City… wasn't burning. No smoke. No fire. If the line had broken, if the Fallen had gotten in, there should have been blood and chaos even now that the sun was up. But there just… weren't any Fallen. The air was crisp and swirled slowly, like the moment after a long sigh. Silence and stillness reigned.

Jaren and Azra moved across the cleared space as furtively as they could. "Notice how all the Fallen we've seen recent have been moving back or digging in?" Jaren asked. "If they got through, they'd be swarming the place." The two Hunters' shadows were cast long behind them in the light of the new sun. They paused almost superstitiously when they reached the edge of the Walls's shadow. They looked at the now-visible gap in the structure, then at each other, then shrugged.

Jaren professed hope as they traced a path northeast towards it. "I think the line held."

At a cost, though. They had to pick their way through corpses. Jaren's feet slowed to a halt as he took in the full extent of death. The field was colorful with red, yellow, and blue Fallen garb. Interspersed were the pinks, whites, purples, and shining golds of Guardian armor. You could read the stories in the way they were scattered. Here, a Titan lay overwhelmed and buried in the bodies of a dozen Vandals. There, a Hunter and a Captain locked in final combat, each having killed the other. Scars of scorched and shocked bodies, whole fireteams dead together, and individual last stands painted an ugly picture of yesterday's battles.

Azra turned back to see why Jaren had stopped, and their eyes met. Some unidentifiable emotion – Confusion? Anguish? Rage? – clouded his expression.

"Come on," Azra said gently, "We're not there yet."

Jaren nodded and shook his head, like he could clear the smell of old blood and gunpowder from his nose, and started walking again.

Azra stubbornly ignored the flashes of maroon and swathes of black that haunted her peripheral vision. If more of her friends were dead… well-

She shook her own head and strangled that thought before it could bloom. That was not what she needed to be focusing on right now. Tomorrow would be a day of mourning and grief. Today, there was still work left to do.

The Guardian bodies thinned and the Fallen bodies increased in number as they approached the Gap. There were only a few figures upright and moving on the hill of loose stone that was all that remained of this section of the Wall. Jaren kept his hand on his Last Word. Azra shifted her grip on Adelante, finger resting lightly on the trigger.

They saw as they approached, the wall's current occupants were doing the same. They were all strangers to Azra's eyes- except for one figure. Lord Shaxx had always been easy to pick out in a crowd, with his distinctive orange-and-white color scheme and the two (admittedly cool) horns affixed to his helmet. His bombastic, gregarious nature made him a very popular figure amongst Guardians and Civilians alike. Everyone knew him, or at least knew of him. It seemed that he'd have even more claim to fame when this was said and done.

With one last sweep to confirm there were no Fallen about to shank her, Azra slung her rifle back over her shoulder. The Titans (all five of them were all Titans, she noted), relaxed marginally. They all looked harrowed. Their armor was dented, stained, scraped, torn. They leaned on stone blocks and kept their weapons ready-close. But they stood, and the City behind them was whole and gleaming still.

Lord Shaxx, for his part, was somehow cheerier than usual. "Ah, a pair of Hunters! What brings you into my office today?"

Azra looked around at the 'office'. Blocks of stone had been moved to create barricades and battlements. Rivers of ether flowed sluggishly between the chunks of rubble. The ground was choked with Fallen corpses, yet there were no Guardian dead here. Maybe they'd been moved.

"We brought news," Jaren said. The Gunslinger removed his helmet. Azra eagerly followed suit. It felt great to have the wind on her face, even if the wind was full of ether and the smell of death. "Jaren Ward," the senior hunter introduced himself. "I believe we've met before. And this here is Azra Jax."

"The young Arcstrider." Shaxx nodded in acknowledgement. "And the hero of the Panama Ravine."

Before he could get further, everyone's attention was drawn by a small avalanche of loose stone. A lone figure scrambled down the slope, dislodging rubble as they went. It was another Guardian. Not just any Guardian, but Ana Bray. Torn cloak, dirty hair, but still moving with incredible vigor and grace.

"The relay's up and running, but there's nothing coming through," she reported breathily, "which means they're not sending anything. Oh!" Finally she seemed to notice that there were two more people on their stone pile. "Hello. What have you been up to?"

"It's a long story," Jaren said.

"I'm afraid we have no contact with the Vanguard or Lord Saladin at the moment-" Shaxx started.

"Nah," said Jaren, "You seem like the person we're looking for."

* * *

April 22, 2871, 07:32

Azra sat in the cool shadow of the wall; she hadn't strength left to spend it on standing, whatever dent it did to her pride. Spark settled in the bowl of her upturned helmet beside her hand marveled at the feeling of safety. Shaxx's fireteam shared their supplies with the two travel-weary Hunters, but most of them promptly returned to their posts to keep watch. Ana retrieved a sniper rifle and took a perch herself. The way she settled in spoke of a long night.

Azra drank greedily from a fresh canteen, then passed it to Jaren. Lord Shaxx settled on a stone pile in front of her as she began her story. "Yesterday, about this time, Miles-4, the Firebreak commander, approached me and asked me to act as a forward scout for his sortie mission. I accepted. It was him, Baldr Saga, Callisto Yin, Joxer, Theus-7, and Lilavati-12. And me. We uh- went out. Wanted to clear some passes to the north."

"Where are they now?" One of the lingering Titans (who'd introduced herself as Truce Vance) asked.

Azra shrugged. "Miles is dead. Probably. Died buying us time out. The rest… well, that's-"

"-Getting ahead of yourself." Jaren reminded.

"Right. Yeah. So we set out on our sortie around 7. Went until around 1730. Cleared… Takanome and Dead River passes. Up to about five miles 'till they intersected, I-I've got a map…" Spark teleported from the helmet to her shoulder and projected the map on the ground. The aforementioned passes were lit up in red. Little blue dots showed the dismantled outposts. "We basically cleared out all of the Fallen and got rid of their artillery. Also burned down or blew up every fortification we came across. They definitely have dropped some more troops in there by now, but there are good routes, and they can't really entrench themselves anywhere 'cept for a couple of caves, and we know where those are."

Truce leaned closer and studied the projection with sharp eyes. "I wouldn't be surprised if they have mostly abandoned the area. We didn't see barely any attacks from the North last night. They could be focusing on digging in, but if there's no good places to dig in, they might have left to focus attention on the Gap."

"Which means they may have a gap in their own lines. What happened to the rest of your team?" Shaxx pressed.

Azra shifted. The stones underneath her were sharp. "Like I said, we were pulling out, 'cause the sun was setting. Uh, last thing we did was kill a heavily armored walker… right about here." She moved a pebble to the appropriate place on the map. "Ran into a Hunter fireteam of six, lead by Andal Brask. Decided to make our way out together. We were all pretty beat. We were half a klick to safe ship zone when the Fallen dropped a Walker basically on top of us. Then they pincered us from the west. Barely got out. Miles stayed behind to buy time, dropped out of comms unexpectedly so… yeah. He's gone. The others… we transmatted on the wall right about here, actually. The Titans made for that rally station to the north. That was when the artillery here was hit bad."

"And?"

"And the rest of the Hunters went south to do… I don't know what, but they sure as hell weren't running. I was up top when the wall fell, literally. Rezzed in the rubble alone. Barely made it out with my teeth unskinned. Got chased and harried and all of that 'bout nine or ten miles west of here. Ran into Jaren. Then we made our way back here. End of story."

Shaxx stroked the jaw of his helmet thoughtfully. Did he wear that thing so much that it became a natural gesture, or was he showboating? "If we decided to storm those passes, could you lead us?"

Azra considered it. Even now her legs still ached. Exhaustion and Darkness pulled on her like weights. But… "Give me a fresh rez and a thirty-minute nap, and I'll do my best. Get you out there, yes. Get you back if the Fallen decide to get stubborn… maybe. I'm on my last legs."

"Comms are up!" Spark announced. "Wait, no. Give it a minute… there. Link established." Ana cheered from her lookout spot. Spark was happy for the fresh tactical information, as bare-bones as it was. Lord Shaxx rose from his seated position.

A gruff voice sounded on the channel. The audio quality was poor, but Lord Saladin's voice was unmistakable. "Shaxx, do you copy?"

" _Saladin_." Was that disdain in Shaxx's voice? Or anger?

"Report in," the Iron Lord commanded.

Shaxx crossed his arms and raised his chin as if Saladin stood physically before him. "We held the line. The Fallen have retreated, for the time being. Do you plan to use this daylight to strike back, or will you continue to retreat like cowards?" Oof. It was anger. Definitely anger.

"We have troops mustered for a counterattack," Saladin ground out.

"I know where they should go." Shaxx replied.

"Then let us move," Zavala intoned. "There will be time to work out our disagreements later."

* * *

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2];  
ASSOCIATIONS: Bray, Ana; Fallen; Jax, Azra; Twilight Gap;  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:0.1]: Hey, give me the map.

[u.2:0.1]: What?

[u.1:0.2]: You're not going back out.

[u.2:0.2]: Like hell I'm not.

[u.1:0.3]: You said so yourself, if you go out, you might not make it back.

[u.2:0.3]: You need someone who knows the terrain. The map won't be enough.

[u.1:0.4]: That's why you're going to sit on tactical and guide us.

[u.2:0.4]: It'd be better if I were out in the field-

[u.1:0.5]: No, it wouldn't. Look at yourself, you're exhausted.

[u.2:0.5]: Don't care. Last few times I stayed back, it was a mistake.

[u.1:0.6]: Seriously, I don't know why you'd pick potential death over sitting in a dry, heated room.

[u.2:0.6]: I ran, when the wall fell. I shouldn't have. You didn't. I want to make up for it.

[u.1:0.7]: Then go where we need you to be.

[u.2:0.7]: You need me to be-

[u.1:0.8]: From tactical, you can guide multiple squads. And there'd be no risk of you dying and us being without direction.

[u.1:0.9]: Look, you've been on your feet for twenty-four hours.

[u.2:0.8]: So have you.

[u.1:1.0]: I actually had a few hours' sleep yesterday morning.

[u.2:0.9]: You've been through a tougher night than I have.

[u.1:1.1]: Have I?

[u.1:1.2]: I may have faced more Fallen, but I had my fireteam with me. You were out there alone.

[u.2:1.0]: Not the whole time.

[u.1:1.3]: Tell me, how many times did you die?

[u.2:1.1]: I didn't count.

[u.1:1.4]: Eighteen for me.

[silence]

[u.2:1.2]: This isn't some sort of contest-

[u.1:1.5]: No, it's not. So listen. Nobody's questioning your dedication.

[u.2:1.3]: I know, just…

[u.1:1.6]: Back when we first met, you promised me a favor. So this is my favor: no complaining. You go back there, sit with the bigwigs, do whatever they ask. We're not going to win this if we're stumbling blind.

[u.2:1.4]: …Fine.

[u.1:1.7]: Fine?

[u.2:1.5]: You get your way.

[u.1:1.8]: You'll see. What good you can do up there.

* * *

April 22, 2871, 08:33

The temporary command center was much quieter now. It hadn't taken even half of an hour for the Guardian troops to clear out once the orders were given. Commander Osiris and Titan Vanguard Zavala went with them to direct the counterattack from the ground. Only essential personnel, the injured, and the battle-weary reserves remained. Tactical support was up to a stony Lord Saladin Forge and Hunter Vanguard Alaia Ruse, who looked like she hadn't slept in a week. (In fairness, she probably hadn't.) They were both a little surprised when a battered-looking Hunter trudged into the command center and dropped into one of the chairs.

"Oh, good," Alaia said mildly, "I can take you off the 'probably dead' list. What news you got for me?"

Azra pulled off her helmet and spat on the ground. "Put Aldur Neiss on the 'definitely dead' list. Pretty sure I saw Zyanne out there, too."

Alaia's lips pressed into a thin line at that, but she tapped at her datapad nonetheless.

"We haven't been introduced," Lord Saladin said. His helmet rested ready on the table next to him. There was also a large ax leaned against the wall that was probably his. It didn't look like something Alaia could lift, much less use effectively.

"Azra Jax. I know 'bout you, obviously." She slouched as much as humanly possible in the chair. Why did they make these things so hard?

"Alright, Azra. Why are you here?"

Spark cured the sleep from her eyes, but he couldn't wipe away the exhaustion. Azra leaned forward and set about updating their holographic map. "You're going to send teams up through Takanome and Dead River passes. I know Takanome and Dead River passes well, because I was just there half a day ago on a sortie with Miles-4." Her hands paused over the Heavy Walker site. "…Who you should also put on the 'probably dead' list. They sent me to help with tactical."

"And you just went?" Alaia Ruse asked skeptically. Her tone made it obvious even she wouldn't be here without her word keeping her bound.

"You ever try arguing with Ana Bray?"

"Fair point."

"Plus, I was out on my own all night, lucky to be alive, yadda yadda. Probably rightfully doubting my ability to survive another field mission in my state. So. Yeah."

"With Lord Saladin's approval, I can give you access to the command systems," Alaia's Ghost said.

"Very well," Saladin said, "but remember you are here in a consulting role. Leave command decisions to the Vanguard."

Azra was already scrolling through the casualty lists. "'Course." Spark quickly found the entries she was looking for. All MIA. No contact since the wall fell. Azra stared at them for a long minute, then pushed back her sense of gloom and stubbornly focused at the task on hand. The first group was already caught up on the lack-of-a-bridge on the Dead River.

"Hello there, Azra Jax speaking. You may have noticed the walkable trail of Dead River Pass cuts back and forth along the bank. The first bridge got wrecked, but there's a sand-er, gravelbar about a quarter klick upstream you can use with some Light jumping. Is the stick still there? Fantastic. Aim for that. Water's only a few inches deep there."

* * *

May 2, 2871, 17:30

Azra stared up at the statue as the Speaker gave his speech. She didn't pay much attention to the words. Something about bravery and sacrifice, yadda yadda. She'd heard it all before. They'd been talking about bravery and sacrifice constantly since the fighting stopped (as much as it ever stopped) two days ago.

The statue featured three Guardians: A Hunter, a Warlock, and standing proud and strong in the middle, a Titan. Their features were hidden behind generic armor. As the shadows cast by the wall grew longer, the lights in the sculpture began to turn on. The Hunter's gun shone a warm golden-orange. The orb in the Warlock's hands was an unearthly purple. The Titan's right fist, which was raised triumphantly in the air, glowed blue-white.

Officially the three weren't supposed to be in the likeness of any individual, only a representative of Guardians as a whole. Everyone agreed that, although it lacked the horns, the stature was clearly made in the image of Lord Shaxx. He was the hero of the day. Held the line, lead the counterattack, basically crushed the Fallen with just the sheer force of his will. Yet standing here in formation, studying the way the shifting lights played on the smooth curve of its helmet, Azra only saw Miles-4.

The base of the statue held rows of names in neat type. She couldn't read them from here, but she didn't need to. The names played constantly in her mind. Aldur Neiss, Ghost destroyed and shot by unknown Fallen. Ana Bray, by a Captain's shock blades and a tall cliff near the end of the battle. Lilavati-12, running ahead during the counterattack. Miles-4, a walker. Natasa-10. Shikoba Fen. Sigurd. Zyanne. And those were just the people she knew personally. There were dozens upon dozens of names carved into the granite, and plenty of space for more. They were still finding bodies.

Azra's eyes instead scanned the crowd around her. Guardians formed semi-orderly ranks, decked out in their finest. Obviously not all the veterans of Twilight Gap were here. A Guardian's work never ceased. Besides, they wouldn't have all fit in the plaza. Alaia Ruse had insisted Azra attend, though, since she had played a non-minor role in the course of the battle. Azra spotted Callisto Yin and Baldr Saga. They both looked… tired, but proud.

Andal's pack was notably absent, probably off busy somewhere. They'd gotten through the battle no worse for wear, long-term. The fact was a relief, but some deep part of Azra was left unsettled. It could very well have gone differently for them.

Amidst her reverie, someone pressed a gun into her hands. No, not a gun, a rocket launcher. Shining gold and silver, a feathered wolf's head. She looked up, confused, to see an Exo there (blue optics, yellow details). He was one of the several people moving down the lines, passing out… rocket launchers? "Made from the armor of those who fell," the Exo rasped.

Azra was immediately repulsed. She didn't want it. She opened her mouth to say as such, but the Exo had moved on down the line. Her fingers fidgeted on the detailing. Whose armor was this, then? It was too macabre for her tastes, wielding a weapon made from a dead person's gear. The gun was gleaming and new, like the ceremonial armor they all wore. Azra couldn't wait to get back into her dented, scratched gear. Newness felt like a farce.

She held the Gjallarhorn as the Speaker finished speaking, as the cheering and claps erupted from the civilians around them. Then, the ceremony over, she walked to her Vault, placed the weapon inside (on a stack of magazines she'd taken from a library), and did not touch it again for almost a year.


	11. Interlude: Answers

There's more than one answer to these questions  
Pointing me in a crooked line  
The less I seek my source for some definitive  
The closer I am to fine

Closer to Fine – Indigo Girls

* * *

Answers to "Who am I", "Why am I here," "What should I fight for", and other similar questions:

An Essay by Spark, Ghost of Azra Jax

Zavala: You are a Guardian of the Last City, a defender of the hopes of Humanity. We fight to protect this place and these people from the forces who would see them extinct. You were chosen for a reason, Hunter.

Speaker: You are alive because the Traveler has blessed you with its Light. Fight for the Traveler, so that we might repay its sacrifice. Fight to bring about a new Golden Age.

Lord Shaxx: You are a phoenix who has risen from the ashes of who you once were. You can grow, and change. Our purpose is to become stronger and re-forge ourselves to be the best Guardians we can be, so we can defeat that which opposes us. The battles ahead will be difficult.

Andal Brask: Every bit of tech you bring back, every map you make, every Fallen you shoot will make things better in the long run. Don't worry about if you're doing the right thing. You are. It takes a bit for things to gel. In the meantime, relax a little. Try Sparrow Racing. Always manages to get me out of my head.

Osiris: Begone. I have not enough time to discuss philosophy with querulous Hunters. Especially not you.

Ikora Rey: Like the ship whose parts are replaced until it is a completely new ship, you are never the same person twice. You are both the path and the walker. Who you were centuries ago matters less than who you chose to be now.

Alaia Ruse: You're here to do what the Titans and the Warlocks cannot do. Or will not do. Same reason I'm here and not out running. The Hunter view of things is a unique one. Find a gap somewhere and fill it. We're not all Shaxxes or Osirises. Osiri? Whatever.

Jaren Ward: Humanity's had it rough. This system has had it rough. We all need to pitch in where we can to make things better. Especially us. We been given this chance, this gift, to be alive again. We should use it to help people. I'm not saying you should be careless with your life, 'cause it's still got value. Just, when you're considering all your options, it's not your place to put yourself first.

Falstaff Straight: There's this idea in logic about axioms. You can't be sure of anything completely, so you make assumptions. You take certain ideas, certain postulates, like any two points can be connected by a line, assume them to be true, and then you build off of them. Here's an axiom: Human life is good and should be protected. Because many Humans live in the Last City, you can say, therefore, the Last City should be protected. And furthermore, if you…

Shiro-4: If anyone tells you they've got it all figured out, they're lying. The regular Humans don't even have it figured out, and they weren't reconstructed from dust by a giant white ball in the sky.

Wei Ning: Build yourself strong foundations. Figure out what you really believe in. You think you fight for the Traveler? Why? How? Do you fight to pay back its sacrifice? Do you fight for the Light because it gave you a new life? Do you fight for the future of Humanity? You see, if you build yourself from the basics, the things you are absolutely certain about, you can't be shaken.

Cayde-6: Find what you care about. Find the best things about yourself, and fight for them like hell. You only lose when you let go, you hear me?

Tevis Larsen: If you were satisfied with getting answers from the outside, you wouldn't be asking still. Your path is yours. The answer will be yours. Now, shoo.

* * *

October 9, 2871

Spark: Azra, I'm worried.

Azra Jax: Hm?

S: I said I'm worried.

AJ: What about?

S: You.

AJ: Huh.

S: Don't just 'huh' at me.

AJ: What do you want me to say?

S: Something. Anything. You haven't spoken for thirty-two hours.

AJ: I was asleep some of those.

S: Three of them. We haven't seen another person in weeks.

AJ: And?

S: We've been avoiding the City.

[silence]

S: Don't pretend it isn't true.

AJ: So what? Plenty of Hunters are loners.

S: But you aren't. You like being around people.

AJ: The City is loud and it stinks.

S: You just don't want to talk to the Speaker.

AJ: Hey, be fair. I'm avoiding a lot more people than just the Speaker.

S: Like, oh, all of the people?

AJ: I was thinking Zavala and Osiris.

S: And the Crew.

AJ: They really need to come up with a better name. It's too generic.

S: Andal has messaged you five times. Shiro's done two. You could at least respond to them.

AJ: They're happy. No need to muck up their stuff with my… whatever.

S: …Do we have to do this with every single point?

AJ: Do what?

S: The thing where you keep making up excuses and I keep asking questions until you get uncomfortable enough that you give me the real answer.

[silence]

S: Listen, Azra. I'm your Ghost. I'm here for you. I want to help. But I can't help with anything if you don't tell me the problem.

AJ: Yeah, well what if you're part of the problem?

S: What?

AJ: You heard me.

[silence]

AJ: I'm sorry. No, shit. It's not like that.

S: Then what is it like?

[silence]

S: If I'm hurting you, I at least deserve to know what I've done.

AJ: You haven't hurt me. You're right. You've always been there for me. It's just…

[silence]

AJ: It's been three years and still none of this feels… right. It doesn't fit.

S: Go on.

AJ: It's like I started adrift, somehow, and I just never found land. Been floating on the ocean my entire life. It's easier 'round the Crew or Jaren or whoever 'cause they seem to have their stuff figured out, but I just… I don't know how to believe what they believe. And it's hard to ignore. I don't know why I'm here.

S: You're here to-

AJ: Protect Humanity and fight the Darkness and all that. That's what everyone says. But it feels like… curtains. Or the façade of a building. But there's just nothing inside. It's all hollow. There's no reason behind it. They say the words and pass 'em down but they just don't stick.

S: The Traveler brought you back to do this. I brought you back. Isn't that enough?

AJ: It's hard to place my trust in some greater power when it doesn't talk.

S: I talk.

AJ: You don't know the Traveler better than any of us. You're just guessing. I know you're guessing.

AJ: I'm not going to be a tool. Or a puppet. And frankly, it feels like that. I shoot aliens so I can take their stuff and sell it to get better gear to shoot more aliens. It's circular. And it's all I fucking do. And I'm sick of killing things to kill more things.

S: You're doing more than just pillaging. You're assuring a better future. You're protecting your fellow Humans.

AJ: Am I human? 'Cause it sure doesn't feel like that.

[silence]

S: Let's go to orbit. I think there's something you should see.

* * *

They transmatted down into the City proper. Azra had technically been to the civilian parts of the world, but they were usually a direct result of falling off of the Tower somehow. A few times she'd ventured (or was dragged) to the ring of Guardian-catering restaurants and businesses that encircled the Tower, but she'd never been this deep. They were solidly in the residential areas now, not a Guardian to be seen.

"I think it was a mistake to not take you here earlier," Spark said. Azra took off her helmet but left the hood up. The sensible camo didn't help her blend into the cityscape, but it still made her feel a little more unobtrusive. The cloak made her just another Hunter.

She stood at an intersection on two major streets. Here, this deep, you couldn't see the Wall past the towering buildings. The Traveler was half-hidden from view as well. There were street signs and addresses, but none of them said anything familiar. She didn't know enough of the City of hazard a guess even at which district they were in. "Where are we, exactly?" She asked her Ghost.

"We're in the Last Safe City."

"Har har. That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Spark spun his shell and settled into his usual spot above her shoulder. "Just keep going forward."

So Azra, too tired to put up a fight, walked. It was early afternoon in this part of the world, and apparently every person in the City had decided that now was a good time to go on errands. There were actual, literal crowds. Hundreds of people. Thousands. The walkways were wide enough to fit everyone, but too narrow for personal space. Azra was jostled even though she tried to stick to the edges.

Spark, feeling his Guardian's hackles rising, quickly lead her down some side streets. Here adults stood gossiping. Children ran by underfoot. Azra stopped to stare at a game involving a long, thin rope strung with plastic beads. Two children held the ends and swung the rope in a lazy loop, while other children tried to stand in the middle and jump over it, breaking into giggles when they inevitably failed. The rhythmic clacking and the children's chant sparked the dimmest of… somethings in her memory. Azra shrugged it off and continued on. She had enough on her plate without confronting vague notions from her first life.

The energy was calmer off of the main thoroughfare, but people stared at her as she passed. Guardians didn't seem to be a common sight in these parts. Azra hunched her shoulders and tugged the hood a little higher and suddenly their eyes slid off her, looking anyplace else, as if that was somehow better. The hastily averted glances and hushed conversations struck her nerves more than the stares. _You really don't belong here_ , some deep part of her whispered. She was having a hard time disagreeing.

Azra's path eventually took her into an open-air market of sorts. The street here was cramped narrow from carts and storefronts spilling over. A band played unfamiliar music on the corner. Long triangles of fabric were strung haphazard between the buildings. The oldest were tattered and bleached by the sun, nearly falling off their strings. The newest were in vibrant shades of blue, green, and red. The air was filled with the sounds of haggling and vendors hawking their wares. Azra relaxed marginally; the atmosphere was enough to obscure her. It seemed people here had better things to do than gawk at strangers.

Azra paused to buy an apple at a fruit stall. The proprietor of the business, a charming-looking woman (Azra still wasn't good with ages) smiled and winked as she handed it over, smooth as anything. Azra bit into the tart fruit and turned her face away to hide the blush. Still, she bought another apple before wandering off. Because she liked apples. No other reason.

The street was naturally slanted. Azra let her feet carry her downhill, northward (if the shadows were anything to go by). Her eyes tracked the different stalls and businesses. Here, a woman cut the hair of a man seated in an odd-looking chair. There, a 'preserves' stall (whatever that meant), was decorated with colorful jars, yellow and purple and orange and red. The market seemed to have everything a city person could need: food, fabrics, mechanics, cutlery, soap, spices.

Azra paused by a trash can to dispose of her apple seeds and wipe her hands. Maybe it was the music or just being around people again after a long bout of solitude, but she had to admit her spirits were bolstered a little. It was hard sometimes, surrounded by ruin and decay, to remember that people were thriving somewhere. Azra paused to scan the street. Nice here, surrounded by happy people, but her legs still wanted to walk. There was still that persistent bitterness in the back of her throat whispering doubts.

She was about to move on, but something tugged at her cape-

* * *

_The stink of ether and Darkness clogged her nose. She choked as the Baron yanked her backwards. She clawed to release the fastening of her cape so she could get clear._

_But this cape didn't have buttons or clasps. The Baron twisted the fabric for leverage… and shoved a shock blade through her lower abdomen. Oh right, Azra thought faintly. Four arms. Stars danced across her vision._

_And she saw Cayde lowering his gun at her. She opened her mouth to tell him no, its too Dark, that she'd take the heal on this one, as painful as it was. A rez might be too difficult. But her legs gave out. And a shot echoed in the cave._

* * *

Azra breathed deeply and focused on her surroundings. The sun shone overhead. It glittered off of glass panes and shiny bits of metal. There were people talking in the background. The smell of spices and meat cooking assaulted her nose.

She was in the City proper. Right. And that was a child tugging on her cape, not a Baron. A few concerned adults watched her with hawk's eyes from across the street. She took the hand off her knife and looked down at the small Human.

-Er, Awoken. A gap-toothed boy with purpley skin and white hair grinned up at her. "Are you a real Guardian?" he asked.

"Uh… yes?" She replied.

"What happened to your Ghost?" he demanded.

"What?"

The child tugged firmly on her cape, frowning as if wronged or concerned. "Dad said every Guardian has a Ghost. But you don't have one."

"…I do, he's right here." She held out a hand, and Spark dutifully materialized above it. He did a flashy little twirl for the kid.

Stars lit in the boy's turquoise eyes, and his jaw dropped open. "Oh wow!"

"His name is Spark."

"Can _I_ hold him?" The boy asked eagerly.

"He's not a toy," she started. Grabbing her cloak was bad enough, but holding her Ghost? Nuh-uh.

The kid's crestfallen expression broke her resolve in seconds. She squatted in front of the him and held out her hand. "As long as you're careful. He's very, very special to me." She sent a pang of repentance to Spark for her harsh words earlier. He meant the world to her. She hoped he knew that.

The Ghost did a circuit of the boy's head before lighting him up with a scan. The Awoken watched with something that could only be described as wonder. He held out his hands and Spark settled down on top of them. At least he seemed inclined to gentleness over exuberant smashing.

There were small footsteps behind her. Azra turned her head to see she'd gathered a couple more observers in the form of two Human children. The held hands. The girl was taller than the boy, but they shared the same caramel skin and dark hair.

"Xinyi, are you talking to strangers again?" The girl scolded.

"Noooo!" the Awoken boy protested. "I was talking to a Guardian! Dad said Guardians are nice people!"

"That doesn't stop them from being strangers, Xinyi." The girl turned a critical eye towards Azra, who cocked her head in response. Spark abandoned the Awoken boy to give the two siblings a scan. The younger boy watched with curious eyes, but the girl seemed wary. Spark let out a friendly chirrup, then settled down on the youth's shoulder. The girl let go of her brother's hand to stroke the crest of his chassis with a trembling finger. _You charmer, you_ , Azra half-chided.

The girl seemed won over, nonetheless, and asked the Guardian a question yourself. "Are you a Warlock?"

Azra held out a hand for Spark and he poofed over, eliciting amazed gasps from the children. "Nope. Hunter. Warlocks wear robes, you see. Us Hunters wear capes."

"So if you put on robes, _then_ you would be a Warlock." Xinyi stated in a stellar feat of kid-logic.

"First off, why would I ever do that, capes are awesome." That drew blank looks from her little audience, so she decided to drop the jokes for now. "But nah, you don't just change classes like that. There's more that sets us apart than just our clothes. Hunters are quick and adventurous and we spend most of time outside the City. Warlocks are studious and aloof and spend a lot of time reading."

The girl nodded seriously. "Grandma said Guardians can be really, really old," she intoned.

Azra shifted from her crouch to a half-kneeling position to ease her calves. Seemed like she'd be here for a while. "Well, some of us are, but I'm new. Ish. I've only been around about three and half years."

"Wow, you're younger than my baby brother!" Xinyi exclaimed. "He's four!"

"In all fairness," Spark interjected, "You could make the argument that she's actually centuries old. She lived her first life in the Golden Age."

That set off a flurry of questions. "Cool! What was it like? Where did you live? What did you do? Did people really get to be three hundred years old?"

Azra scratched the back of her neck self-conciously. "Well, I can't actually remember any of it. Just since I was risen."

The girl frowned thoughtfully at that. "That's sad. You lived through the Golden Age and you can't even remember it? Not even your family?" She looked at her little brother, who had spent the entire conversation so far staring at Azra with wide, quiet eyes.

Azra opened her mouth to answer, but the hollowness in her ribcage stole her breath. There were a lot of things she'd never have back.

A grown woman's voice called out over the street. "Leah, you're not bothering that Hunter, are you?" The girl started at her name, looking sheepish. She grabbed her brother's hand again, though the toddler had shown no inclination to wander off.

"No, Ma, the Guardian was just telling us about the Golden Age!"

Azra stood up, sheepish herself. The woman bore a certain resemblance to the two children. She scrutinized the Guardian with keen eyes. Whatever inspection she held, Azra seemed to pass; the woman nodded and turned back to her discussion with a man who sat stringing beads.

Azra let out a sigh of relief (had she been holding her breath?) The Awoken boy tugged on her cape again to get her attention and babbled out another nearly-incomprehensible question.

* * *

It was almost like Azra felt it before it happened. Her instincts were tuned razor-sharp from constant use, and she'd learned to listen to them well. So when every cell in her body suddenly screamed _danger_ , she yanked the children backwards, behind her, drawing her sidearm.

Someone shouted, and a driverless cart careened into view. Time seemed to slow. People scattered. Azra felt suspended, part of her pulling to stop the cart, the other shouting to stay with the children and keep them safe.

In the panic, a man tripped and fell on the street. The cart skidded towards him. That tipped the balance. The good thing about instincts, they were much quicker than logical thinking. Before Azra really processed the image of the prone Human, she was lunging forward. Light pushed her faster than any mortal muscles could.

The cart was a crude, yet effective structure. Basically a box on wheels with handles. Azra threw her elbow over the rear wall and clamped down. Her feet skidded on the ground until her heels jammed in a gap in the paving stones.

The craft halted with a jerk that nearly tore Azra's shoulder from its socket. But it stopped. Azra bit off a pained yell and _heaved_ backwards, away from the prone figure. The cart obliged by rolling an entire six inches. It was heavy. She had to fight against the slope of the street to even keep it stationary. Azra grit her teeth and changed her grip, trying to take weight off of her shoulder. Electricity crackled in her hands.

By now, the rest of the world seemed to be catching up. There were gasps and yells. The man scrambled frantically to get out of danger. A few of the faster people ran to help him or steady the cart. It was full of… books. Her mind flashed to the book store a half-dozen blocks up the street. She'd wondered how many of them had been printed in the City and how many had been plundered from Golden-Age libraries and archives.

_"Someone block the wheels!"_

_"Traveler!"_

_"Are you okay?"_

_"Where the hell did that-"_

_"LEAH!"_

The crowd produced wooden wedges from somewhere. A few brave souls carefully stuck them under the wheels of the cart. More people came to steady it and take its weight.

_"Oh, Traveler, baby, are you alright?"_

Azra stepped back, trying to keep the pain from of her face. Spark went to work on her shoulder. For the moment, the people were more worried about securing the cart than watching her.

_"What did I tell you about playing in the street? You could have been killed!"_

She rolled the joint, grimacing as the motion sent pings of pain down her arm. Spark hit it with another burst of Light, and cool relief radiated instead. She flexed her fingers. Nothing seemed amiss.

_"No, Ma, the Guardian kept us safe!"_

Azra walked back over to the kids, keeping a nervous eye on the cart. It seemed handled for the moment. It hadn't been more than thirty seconds since the man had fallen. The crowd in the street swelled as people came out of buildings and down the path to gawp at the commotion.

"The Guardian? Oh!" The woman almost jumped when she noted Azra's presence.

"Uh, I think that came from the book shop a few blocks up-"

She was cut off when the woman threw her arms around the Hunter. "Thank you, Guardian!" She exclaimed.

"Uhhhhhhhhh…." Azra replied, drawing a blank on what she was supposed to do. "It… was no problem?"

_"Somebody could have been killed!"_

_"Who stopped the cart?"_

_"It was a Guardian. A Hunter, didn't you see?"_

_"What? A Guardian?"_

The woman finally let go and went back to scolding her children. It seemed they'd be keeping close to their mother for the near future. Xinyi tugged on Azra's cape again and started gushing about her small act of heroism.

He wasn't the only one gushing.

_"That Guardian saved my life!"_

_"What's your name, Hunter?"_

_"That was amazing!"_

With one final profession of thanks, Leah's mother ushered the three children away. It seemed Xinyi wasn't getting away from this without his fair share of chastisement. Azra quickly lost them in the crowd.

More and more people turned from gawping at the cart to gawping at Azra. Embarrassment made heat rise in her cheeks. Unlike certain blue Exos she knew, Azra did not like to be the center of attention. She was struck with an overwhelming urge to hide.

The commotion dulled to a roar, the individual words lost behind the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She was pinned, back against a building. Everyone seemed to want to clap her shoulder or shake her hand or beg questions from her. The ones in front were pressed closer by more people filling in the back.

Azra started to hyperventilate. Panic choked her throat. There were too many moving parts. Too many people. Too many words being thrown about. Every moving hand could be pulling a knife. Every figure shoving its way through the crowd could be coming to strike at her, or someone else around her. Azra's shoulders hunched reflexively, elbows tucked close to guard her sides, mind casting about for escape routes. There were no good ones; the mob was too thick, the street too narrow. The roof of the building formed an overhang, boxing her in above.

Someone grabbed at her shoulder and shouted something in her ear. She couldn't hear it over the pounding of her heart. Something grabbed her wrist and pulled,

And-

Next thing she knew, she was staring into a pair of black eyes opened wide in terror. A man. It was a young man. Human. Her left arm was pressed across his chest, bunched fabric of his shirt in her fist, pinning him to the wall behind him. The other hand held a knife at his throat. His fingers clutched helplessly at her wrist. Her grip was rock-solid. A thin trickle of blood ran down the dark skin of his neck.

There were shouts from the people behind her. She couldn't hear them. Only-

_Azra, Azra, let go. Calm down. Breathe._

She fumbled for her thoughts, coming up blank. Everything was a confused jumble of sound and fear and alien hands grabbing her shoulders.

Spark was like a ray of light. _Stay with me. Let go. Take a step back. Breathe. In. Out._

Her mind caught up to the situation with all the gentleness of hitting a brick wall. The guy had grabbed her to pull her through the crowd, and she'd flipped him against a wall and shoved a blade up under his chin.

Her stiff fingers unlocked automatically. The knife clattered to the pavement. Her stomach rebelled.

"Back up! Give us some space!" Spark called.

"Oh Gods oh Traveler above I'm so sorry," Azra rambled, even as she let go of the man's shirt. He stumbled backwards, a look of confounded panic on his face. Someone else grabbed Azra's right bicep and it was all she could do to not send an elbow flying into their face in response. She turned heel, but there was nowhere to go.

 _Out, get us out_ , she pleaded to her Ghost (and the Traveler, and any deities that may have been listening in).

Then with a tingle and a rush, she was in the seat of her jumpship. Her instincts were still screaming run, so she punched the throttle. Her grip on the controls was so tight her fingers went stiff and pale.

She didn't know where she was going, just _away_. It was Spark who tilted the controls to take them across the Atlantic. Spark who stopped the ship in orbit, who transmatted them down to land.

* * *

She found herself on the cliff, in Old Portugal. The cliff felt like the one place in the universe that was _hers_ in some way. Nobody else seemed to want it. The stone was old and slowly crumbling. Besides the lichen and tough grass that grew between the cracks, there was no signs of life here. No Fallen. No bird nests. Even the closest trees were half a klick inland. The only defining feature on this stretch of coast was the cairn of stones Azra had made to mark the spot she'd first risen.

The sun was low enough to cast a burnished gold on the slate-gray ocean, but not low enough to start painting the sky in sunset colors. Scraggly wisps of cloud streaked close to the horizon. Warm wind tugged at Azra's clothes as she settled into a seated position, dangling her feet off the edge. Only upon focusing on the sound of the waves did Azra's heart begin to slow. Inch by inch, she pushed back the animalistic panic. Her breath steadied. She opened her hands and stared at the little crescent marks her fingernails had made when they dug into her palms.

Then the tears came. For what exactly, Azra didn't know. There was just so much built up inside her- guilt and grief and fear- she couldn't hold it in anymore. For a few moments she sat trembling as they dripped down her face, keeping silence. Then one of her breaths she drew in shuddered hard, and her diaphragm squeezed around the knot in her ribcage, and a sob broke through.

Spark stayed distant and absent in realspace, thinking maybe to give his Guardian some privacy. She curled up on herself anyway, burying her face in her knees and biting off the gasps that wracked her frame. But even when the sobs quieted to the occasional sniffle, the sense of guilt did not fade.

Spark finally gave in and hovered close to her head. "That wasn't your fault back there. You know that, right?" He said gently.

 _No_ , her mind whispered, and a choked laugh burbled up from her throat.

He pushed at her elbow until she lifted her head up to look at him. "You live in a dangerous world. The things that grab you are usually trying to kill you out here. You're not a bad person for having that reaction."

"I'm not a bad person f-for almost shanking a civilian." She rasped. "Sure."

"You can't blame yourself for getting anxious when you're crowded. Being crowded isn't a good thing for you."

"How can you sa-ay that's okay? I almost, almost just _killed_ someone!"

"You kill things for a living. Any other place, you'd have been saving your skin. It was the right response, just the wrong environment. City life and Hunter habits don't always mix well."

Azra turned her head away. "I thought you were trying to convince me that I'm just Human," she muttered, bitter.

Spark scooted over to be in front of her face again. "There's a difference between being a Human and being a civilian. You should not feel bad for knowing war more than you know peace. You didn't choose-"

The revelation hit. _Oh._ Spark drifted to the ground slowly, stunned. _You didn't choose this life_ , was what he was about to say. Which was wrong. Well, it wasn't wrong, but it _should_ have been. Guardians choose their fate. But Azra hadn't picked this path.

'What if you're part of the problem', she'd asked. He hadn't thought… "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

Her eyes narrowed. " _You_ didn't almost just stab a dude."

He shook himself and rose off of the rocks. "Not that part. This whole mess. I'm responsible."

Confusion made its way through their mental link. At least it was a good distraction. Azra pulled back from the cliff's edge and sat cross-legged. "What are you talking about?"

"You. This… whatever thing. It's because of me. I'm part of the problem."

"I didn't mean that," Azra protested. "I was just feeling-"

"Trapped." Spark said. "In a prison of my making. Just… listen, alright?"

Her eyes were empty, but she nodded.

"All my life, I've known who you were," Spark began. "I've had a lot of time to think about it. You were so… lost, when I raised you." Azra nodded again, the corner of her mouth twisted in a pained expression. "But it was okay! Because I knew what kind of person you were, and I knew what your destiny would be. But…" He settled down on her knee. "I'm sorry I made the decision of what you would be for you. Just because I knew the answer… but the question still should have been asked. _You_ should have decided.

"All of these questions, 'why am I here', 'what do I fight for', you're trying to figure out why you made the choices that lead you here. But you didn't make them. _I_ did. I woke you up and told you to fight. Because it's clear to me- I've spent centuries looking for you, centuries wondering about you- I know you are more than willing to put the greater good above your own life and comfort."

Her earlier efforts to stop the cart played over again in her mind. Spark blinked in recognition.

"I just… I _know_ you, Azra Jax. You're a wonderfully selfless person. You just throw yourself in to help without a second thought. You're _upset_ when the things you do seem to benefit only yourself. That's why I took you to the City. Not because I wanted to prove your humanity. I just wanted you to see what good your actions have done. Those people there are safe because of you. They're happy and healthy because of _you_.

Azra still looked sad. "The 'why' matters just as much as the 'what'," she said. Jaren Ward's face frowned at her from her memories. "And I haven't been doing the things I've been doing for… any reason, really. People said, 'do this' or 'do that', and so I did it. I've taken my whole life on good faith and trust, and… maybe that wasn't the right thing to do. Yeah, you gave me a purpose, but I _believed_ you."

She sighed in defeat and lowered her head again. "Maybe I'm just being stubborn."

Spark bonked her in the elbow. "A distrust for authority can be a good thing, but that doesn't mean they're always wrong. Morality isn't always _objective_ per say, but how could you look at everything you've done and think it had no purpose?"

She chewed her lip and stared out to sea. "I mean, everyone's told me all the reasons. I know, theoretically, that what I do helps people. I just don't want to believe it."

If Spark had a face, he would be frowning. "I don't know where you got this idea that you're a bad person."

Her silence was telling. The image of feathers and a burning-hot spotlight hung in her mind.

"Osiris?" Spark asked. "But you think he's a quack!"

She huffed in defeat. "You can't just have the Vanguard Commander tell me I'm probably some Vex puppet… thing, and not expect me to freak out a little!"

"That's what's got you so worried?"

"Every moment, every day, I gotta ask, 'is what I'm doing really the right thing?' What if, by fighting the Fallen, we're just making them more determined? What if, somehow, I'm unwittingly causing some apocalypse? Butterfly affect and all that? I'd just not do anything, but that might be what they want!" She threw up her hands in exasperation. The weight of the world was on her shoulders, it seemed. Every step was on thin ice. "I never know what I'm supposed to do to… to _fix_ that. I don't know if anything I do or don't do will help in the long run."

"Nobody knows for certain," Spark argued. "You can't see into the future. You just have to take what you know and go on that. Know what? Screw Osiris. He knows nothing about you." There was a lot of righteous indignation there for such a small frame. "The people who have _actually_ spent time with you trust you. I trust you. I know how you look at things. You're not some mindless killer or machine. You're trying to be helpful. The fact that you're torn up about this at all shows you have a good heart. Don't let Osiris tell you who you should be."

There was a long pause, but, "…Okay."

"Okay?"

"I believe you." She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top. Curled up, she looked small and slight, like a stiff wind could blow her away. Yet a hint of warmth had returned to her eyes.

"Let's fix this," Spark said.

"How?"

"Sometimes it's just a matter of asking the right questions. And having hope that the answers are out there."

He took to the air again, circling her head once before coming to a stop before her. "If this doesn't feel right, maybe it isn't right. You don't have to be this person. You don't have to do these things."

"What else is there to do?" She asked. "The aliens are still going to be there. Not like I can go skip around picking flowers."

He gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. "Some of the Cryptarchs are Guardians. Or you could join the Homeguard and help keep the City safe internally. Never raid another Fallen nest or Vex installation."

"Cryptarchy? Really? I'd be bored to tears. And the City…"

"Well, then go join Dead End Cure and only fight to defend yourself. Or take a sabbatical on Io. Plant a garden somewhere. Or…" he hovered close, dropping his voice to a whisper. "There are… rumors. About groups of light-bearers living in the outer system. Pacifists and dissenters. We could try finding them."

She gave her Ghost a skeptical look. "You'd follow me if I dropped all my guns and ran off to the outer rim?"

"All I want," he said, "is for you to be happy and fulfilled. I'm always here with you, to the edge of the Galaxy and the end of time. Whether you fight or not." He settled on her knee. "You were chosen by the Traveler, Azra, because you are a _good_ person. I know you. I know wherever you go will be the right path. So, the real question, the only one that truly matters, is 'what do you want to do'?"

What did she want to do? She wiped the half-dried tears from her cheeks. Living a life in the City… no. She'd go crazy. But something didn't sit right with just leaving. She knew she'd wonder. Because there were things she cared about. Andal's crew. Jaren. Alaia. Could she really be happy knowing she wasn't supporting them?

"What do I want to do…"

She let her thoughts wander to earlier that afternoon. That fierce protectiveness that struck her for Lea and Xinyi. The cart. Stopping the cart. The people in the market, smiling and laughing and playing music. That was something undeniably good. Something that should be protected and nurtured. She wanted to protect and nurture that. The idea of that in danger, that she'd put that in danger, revolted her to her core.

"…There are things I like about this life," she began. "It's hard. Fighting doesn't always feel good. But… I think I know that it's the right thing to do." She picked at a seam in her leg armor. "Even if killing Fallen just to kill them gives me the heebie jeebies, I'd still do it. To protect my friends or protect myself. I'm not in to death for death's sake. But there are things I want to protect."

She slapped a palm to her forehead. "God, that's such a dumb thing to say. I'm all mopey about something one minute just to turn around and say I like it?" Her chuckle wasn't free of pain, but there was actual mirth behind it. "Traveler above, I'm an idiot."

"Hey!" Spark scolded, "Nobody calls my Guardian an idiot. Especially not you."

"How's about 'childish' then?" She asked, swiping at her Ghost. He bobbed and weaved to avoid, clicking at her tauntingly. She furrowed her eyebrows and put on a pout. It didn't look very menacing at all, with the twinkle of humor in her eyes. "Rejecting my candy just 'cause someone gave it to me?"

"Well, in terms of years, you are a toddler."

"I thought I was technically centuries old?" She jabbed back.

* * *

They settled after a few minutes of good-natured back-and-forth. Azra once again dangled her legs off the edge. The wind had shifted direction, blowing inland instead of out to sea. It spread Azra's cloak out behind her and refused to let her keep her hood up. The wind in her hair felt nice.

"I want to do _this_ ," she professed. Spark lit down on her shoulder. She nudged him with her head. "This is nice."

"What's different now?" He asked. Not too long ago she was distant and stony. He wasn't fool enough to think words alone could fix everything.

"Perspective, I guess?" She leaned against her knees, watching the seabirds as they dived closed to the waters. "Difference between a prison and home. Door's open now. But maybe I just wanted the freedom, not the space. Can't pretend everything's rosy, but…"

A frown pulled on her features once again. "But, really," she hesitantly began, "If tomorrow I said I wanted to leave all of this behind. You'd really come with me?" The hesitancy in her voice saddened Spark. Of all of her strengths, trusting easy was not one of them. Most of the people she knew had been extremely trustworthy. Maybe it was a holdover of her previous life.

But Spark didn't need to even consider the question. He bobbed in the air affirmatively. But leaving it unsaid didn't feel right, so he added a, "Yes. Wherever you go. Whatever you do. I don't need to take it on blind faith. I can see you just fine."

A shuddering sigh racked her body, but it left no pain behind.

Then Azra nodded, and the familiar glint of determination came to her eyes. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed right. When she stepped back and looked at it all without assumptions, it was clear what she wanted to do.

She wanted to stay up late around campfires, making jokes, knowing she was safe because those around her had her back. Knowing they were safe because she had theirs.

And she wanted to stride along the high path, no reason for words but the joy in saying them. No need for doubts because the sun was high and the iron was steady in her hand. Keen smiles and gentle sentences that seemed to wind around the sore spots in her soul.

And she wanted to walk quietly on far-flung trails, a part of the world around her. Knowing exactly where she fit, every step another piece of the perfect dance of nature. Breathing as the wind and seeing as the sun and shifting as the dappled tree-shadows.

"I want… to call Andal."

And she wanted to sit on the cliff edge and dangle her feet over the abyss, Ghost by her side and no worry between them.

Peace. She wanted there to be peace. And if there was to be any freedom and peace for Humanity in the future, it'd have to be fought for.

She wanted to fight for it.

* * *

Call Transcript 485

Azra Jax: Hey, Andal.

Andal Brask: Well hello. What have you been up to?

AJ: Not a whole lot.

AB: Really? You sound rough. You doing alright?

AJ: … Yeah, I am now.

AB: Glad to hear that.

AJ: Thanks.

AB: What's the occasion?

AJ: Hm?

AB: Not to be rude, but I am a busy man. Why you calling?

AJ: Wanted to return your messages. I been, uh, trying to figure stuff out. Needed some space. But I feel bad for dropping off the face of the Earth like that.

AB: Well, technically you dropped off the face of Mars, since that's where I heard from you last.

AJ: Well, sorry for dropping off the face of Mars then.

AB: Apology accepted. And while we're talking, you ever been to Old Accra?

AJ: Yes?

AB: And question two, are you going to be doing anything in say… eleven hours?

AJ: Guess that depends on question three.

AB: Question three… is a hot dog a sandwich?

AJ: [laughter]

AJ: Please tell me you aren't doing a run on Old Accra to settle the 'what is a sandwich' debate.

AB: Nah, we're doing a run for the Vanguard. Although, nobody said we couldn't do a little personal research on the side…

AJ: Eleven hours, you say?

AB: Well, ten plus briefing and travel.

AJ: Ping me those sweet coords and I'll be there.

AB: Cool. Bring a shotgun. Close quarters and all that.

AJ: Will do.

AB: And Azra?

AJ: Yeah?

AB: It's good to hear from you.


	12. The Bow

Well as a child, I mostly spoke inside my head  
I had conversations with the clouds, the dogs, the dead  
And they thought me broken, that my tongue was coated lead  
But I just couldn't make my words make sense to them  
If you only listen with your ears, I can't get in

The Mute – Radical Face

* * *

Tevis was a… strange person. Confident, powerful, yet quiet and prickly. He was a notorious figure among Hunters, earning grudging respect from the older ones and avid awe from the younger. Yet he didn't seek glory or recognition.

There was certainly an air of mystery about the fellow. Perhaps his connection with the Void was a part of it, but his cageyness didn't help much. He had a weird wavelength. He'd say one thing and mean three other things. Sometimes he wouldn't say anything at all, like his eyes could talk. Really, it was a wonder he was a member of a pack at all. He seemed the loner type. Didn't like chatter. Didn't like questions.

Well, really, he didn't like _dumb_ questions, which was understandable. The issue was Tevis seemed to consider a lot of questions dumb. He said he didn't like his time wasted and he had better things to do than to walk idiots through basic logic. Azra had told him that sounded Warlock-like, and he'd shot her an icy glare and told her about how class divisions were only important when you let them be.

So he could be a bit of an ass. He _did_ get pestered a lot. He had the celebrity status of being one of the most powerful and accomplished Nighstalkers alive. On top of Nightstalking being a notoriously tricky art, his Dark Age pedigree made him the go-to guy for asking advice on a dozen topics ranging from the Dusk Bow to Rasputin to the Dust Giants. Azra herself had to avoid some bothering about the whole Arcstrider thing, which gave her some sympathy to his issues. A topic which might be curious at first got really old when you spent half your time talking about it.

Perhaps that was why he got along so well with his pack. They were already on his level, so to speak. No asking why the Golden Gun was Golden or why we call the Fallen the Fallen or 'how can I make my grenades faster'. Cayde still asked plenty of dumb questions, but that was more for the entertainment value of Tevis' barbs than anything else, and he took the casual insults well.

Azra quickly learned the rule with Tevis was _think before you speak._ Think long and hard. Only ask for his help when you actually need it.

It could feel incredibly vulnerable, coming to him with a legitimate issue or failing, a metaphorical chink in your armor. He usually was so snide and cutting. But Azra had also learned his paradoxical softer side. Come to him with your guard down and show him your loss, he wouldn't hesitate to help. The key was the difference between 'help my gun is jammed' and 'I cannot for the life of me get this open, could you try?'

So Azra was nervous, but not _too_ nervous, when she decided to ask for help with the Bow. She'd tried, hard. Spent a long time mulling it over. Asked around for help from other sources first. But a lot of Nightstalkers were too busy, or had egos the size of Old New York, or weren't sure they could help.

And if he said no, well, she'd just go back to doing her thing.

* * *

July 14, 2872, 10:43

They were sitting in the Crew's camp. Azra had become a semi-regular figure around, between all the pre-ops briefings and the post-ops crashes. It was nice. Quiet in the way the City never was, even when Cayde was being his loud self. This current iteration of the camp was sheltered in a thick stand of pines on the slope of some minor mountain in a landscape littered with minor mountains. They were smack dab in the middle of no-man's land- not even the Fallen had claimed territory here.

Cayde and Shiro had just left on a run, Andal wasn't back from his thing yet. It was just Tevis and Azra for the moment. The Arcstrider drew a breath, fingers fidgeting on the hem of her cloak, and asked, "Tevis, would you help me with Nightstalking? If you've got nothing else going on?"

Tevis asked the question she knew he'd ask: "Why do you want to learn?"

So, her answer: "Well I'm often out on my own, and sometimes I get in a bit over my head, and a little bit of a head start via tether would help a lot."

Tevis didn't even look up. He pulled out a thin knife and began picking the dirt from beneath his fingernails. "That's not really it. Try again."

That was… unexpected. Azra found herself flat-footed, metaphorically speaking. Which was dumb, because one should always expect the unexpected when trading wits with Tevis. "Uh… because I can do the Gun and the Staff, so the next logical step is the Bow?"

He tsked and shook his head. "Strike, again. Think about it. I know you're holding something back. Give it some thought, come back when you actually know."

"Wait. Wait. It's just…"

He looked up at her with that _way_ he had. Like he knew everything about you. Like he was waiting for you to come to a conclusion he already understood. Maybe he did. He'd seen a lot.

Azra stopped to think. The answers she gave were both real, but they were logic and surface-level. Too easy. The real driving desire she hadn't put to words. She'd have to try. "I walk around, and I feel the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, but there's still something missing. And I sit there at night and everything is still, and I know there's something there that I can't reach. And it's saying something that I want to hear, but I don't know how to listen. I've tried. I know you want people to try before they bug you, but the more I focus, the sharper the edge gets and maybe the cutting is a way of listening, but it might just be pain for pain's sake and… and,"

She took a deep breath, paused, and gathered her thoughts. "And I want to walk my own path, I know how important that is, but I don't see a path. I don't know how to walk it." She held her hands out in a pleading gesture.

That seemed to do it. Tevis paused his fingernail-cleaning to peer at her through narrowed eyes. "And you're not afraid of the Void?"

She wanted to say _pssh, no_ , but Tevis appeared to have little patience today for thoughtless answers. So she thought before she spoke. "I die, a lot. I guess I'm learning. But I've never found anything there that was… wrong. It's just another part of the universe."

Tevis hesitated a moment, then pushed himself to his feet, groaning like an old tree in the wind. "Alright."

"Huh?"

He did a few brief stretches. "I'll show you the ropes. But not here." The Nightstalker strode off down the forest slope. Azra looked at Spark, gave a shrug, and followed.

"Andal," Tevis growled into his comms, "Me 'n Azra are doing some Void things. Call if you need anything."

* * *

A fifteen-minute sparrow ride later and they were in the heart of some small town (long-abandoned, of course). There weren't any buildings above two stories. Not a single pane of glass remained unbroken, and the street was torn up and overgrown with moss.

Tevis finally stopped walking. He surveyed the surroundings, grumbling to himself. "Alright, this'll do. Always helps to have a little ruin around when doing Void things."

Azra nodded. "Thanks in advance. There's not a ton of Nightstalkers who're willing to help."

Tevis grunted and flipped a chunk of asphalt over with his foot. "Feh. Not a lot of Hunters can make a connection with the Void. Never stops them from trying."

"I can't promise anything other than trying," Azra half-joked.

He squinted at her, looking her up and down. Then he shrugged. "You're having troubles, you said." Sometimes with Tevis, it was what he _didn't_ say. He didn't say 'you're hopeless'. He didn't offer any affirmations, but he was still standing there.

Azra sighed and shifted her weight. "Every time I think I have it, it slips through my fingers. It's there, in a way I can't describe, but I can't touch it. It's driving me insane. Arc and Solar come when I call, but with Void, there's nothing there when I pick up the line."

Tevis grunted, bit off a ragged bit of fingernail. "Well there's your problem: It's the Void. It's beyond death. It's _nothing_. You're driving yourself crazy because you're looking at something that is the opposite of looking. It's not that there isn't any path, it's that the path _isn't._ "

Azra chewed the inside of her lip. The crazy-talk made more sense than she was comfortable admitting. She wondered just how long Tevis had been teaching this.

"Listen, blood, and listen good." He grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face down the street. "Accept the fact that you're gonna die someday. You're gonna go down and never, ever get back up again. To some extent, you can control when it happens and how. But even if you spend your whole life fighting it, death comes for everyone. If you can find the humility to accept that, you can find the humility to use it.

"People say it changes your Light." He snorted. "Nah. The Void is always there. You just learn to find it. And I won't say there aren't people out there who wished they never opened their eyes. But you keep your respect, keep yourself humble, and you won't have a problem. You talk sometimes about how Arc can hurt you if you aren't careful. Same thing here. Same thing with the Golden Gun, though you'll have to pull a few fingernails before Cayde'll admit you can burn yourself."

Azra grinned. "The first time I tried to shoot it, I exploded. So yeah."

Tevis chuckled. "There you go. But our goal is gonna be that you don't get hurt. So be warned. Void can be creepy. Reaching into it can bring up some unpleasant memories and visions. Just remember that it can't hurt you if you don't let it. Don't engage. Deny. The point is to make your enemy feel that pain, not yourself."

Azra nodded, focus pulling her features into a frown.

"Concentrate, now. Void is nothing. So you gotta take something and make it not. Give a little bit. Make some space. If you can't define the absence of everything, find the absence of _some_ thing. You can't see anything but the contrast. So you gotta make room for it to fill."

She only knew how to make herself bigger, not cut herself down. Size is relative, she reminded herself. If she couldn't shrink, the world could grow.

There was a knife's edge in her throat that was hard to swallow around. And that was it, maybe. She was trying to hold on to something that needed her to let go. Like that funny paper trap Aaron Temitope had put on her fingers once. You pushed to pull. You had to hold knives by the blade to throw them. Take the harm and cast it away elsewhere. She needed to let go of the rope and just… fall.

Tevis' voice reached her as if from a great distance. "Take aim before you pull the bow. Look at something and know it, so you know the space it will leave behind. Then take that emptiness you've made and fill it with that thing's life."

There it was in her hands, ill-defined and flickering. But it was there. Power hissed in her veins. The shadows seemed to leap out, but rising to her defense instead of threatening her. Her fingertips tingled.

The bow wasn't hungry, exactly. Hunger required some sort of consciousness, some sense of desire. It was just empty. Like the light part of a scale, a hollow bowl. Potential.

And that was where it went wrong. Because her mind went from _potential_ to _imbalance_ and _possibility_ and _charge_ and _current_ and suddenly there was lighting burning its way through her right arm, locking her muscles so tight her bones creaked and her nerves screamed. It was like grabbing a live wire.

Her second instinct was to relax, but that only made the world shimmer and dim as pins-and-needles rushed over her skin. The pricks were like synapses firing in the dark, thousands of stars flaring bright in novae only to collapse. Her face was numb, her hands were numb, except for the sharp electrical bites of pain.

She tried to shove the Void away, let the Arc have her instead, but it clung to her. It held on tight to her right wrist like a manacle, making her tendons pop.

No, that wasn't the Void, that was Tevis. Tevis with a bloody smile carved across his neck. Tevis drowning in deep, cold water. Tevis deathly pale and bled out. Tevis trampled, Tevis crushed, stabbed, shot, frozen…

* * *

_Azra stubbornly ignored the flashes of maroon and swathes of black that haunted her peripheral vision. If more of her friends were dead… well-_

* * *

She screwed shut her eyes and turned her head away.

"Listen. You listening, blood? Follow my voice. Death is just a door. You've walked it a hundred times before." He sounded urgent. Azra was having a hard time focusing.

The issue was, wielding the Void would electrocute her. Directing Arc would drown her. She'd marshaled too much strength to her side and now she was watching it all tear itself apart with violent gravities and electromagnetic instability.

A burning hand grabbed the back of her head. "Don't fight it, you idiot. You can't win."

The hand was pain- both of them were, scorching her skin where they touched. Everything hurt: the heat, the Arc making her jaw clench and her arm spasm, the cold ache settled now deep in her bones. Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes. It was like the world was made of razors. Something heavy dragged at her spirit, whispering to her _just relax, let go._

She knew better than to surrender. But she couldn't fight it. She breathed, the action of her lungs filling and deflating strangely… hollow.

_Deny it, then_ said the other half of her soul. It floated beside her. _No fear. You'll be alright. Trust me._

So she took the Light, all of it, and shoved it away, strangled it, smothered it. Stalemate, then; she couldn't wield it, but it wouldn't overpower her. With one last jolt in her chest, the Arc died its death like normal. Void washed over her like cold water, but she put her shoulder to it and whispered _no,_ and suddenly she found she could feel the air on her face again. Tevis' fingernails were dug deep into her wrist. She could move.

* * *

_She pulled back, opened her eyes, and saw him: dead, dead and gone, forgotten dust. The sun was a lifeless husk above them, devoid of warmth or light. The ground was frosted infertile rock and dirt. Wind whistled through the stones. It was an empty, lonely sound for an empty, lonely world. In her heart, Azra knew that this was it. Everything was gone. Everything. Not even so much as a blade of grass still lived. Much less Tevis. Much less the Traveler, or the City, or even her._

* * *

_She blinked, hard, and the scene changed. She stood on a bloody field, surrounded by corpses. The sky was dark. The only source of light was the dim glow of the Traveler and the City burning in the distance. Guardians littered the ground along with Fallen remains. Death seemed to hang present in the air._

_But she'd already been through this, once. She'd faced this and came out stronger. Azra let out a long sigh, eyes tracking the horizon for enemies (of course there were none, they were all dead). Then she turned her gaze downwards and made herself look. She looked for a long while. Miles-4, Aldur Neiss, Ana Bray… but among them, Lord Shaxx, Wei Ning, Osiris, Alaia Ruse, the Crew… everyone._

_And standing there, with the Void still clinging to her skin like a sheet of ice, she accepted it. Everyone was going to die, eventually. She couldn't fight that. She could fight for their happiness, for their lifespans, but no matter how hard she worked, she could not prevent them from dying. All she could say was_ tomorrow, not today.

_That fact was stronger than she was. But some stubborn part of her refused to let it beat her. She nodded at the bodies on the ground, accepted their deaths, and turned a blind eye towards that tomorrow._

* * *

Tevis stood, uncharacteristic concern in his eyes. The sun above was hidden by a thick layer of clouds. The wind tugged at her cape and sent fallen leaves skittering over the pavement of the street. Grass grew up between cracks in the asphalt. Azra had almost forgotten what the color green looked like. But the grass was green. Tevis' eyes were green.

Air rushed up her throat and she realized she was either going to laugh or sob.

She chose laughter. The sound was meaningless at first, like old echoes, but when she drew her next breath, she felt grounded and _real_ , more real than the fear. Hysterics were crushed by joy and freedom and she laughed at their deaths, too. The Void in her bones whispered _you are stronger than everything._ Spark beside her whispered _I'm always here with you. Until the end._

Tevis was unsettled before her. "Laughing isn't usually a good sign."

Azra wiped the tears from her face. "This explains… a lot. Sorry. It's funny."

"You're not going crazy Warlock on me?"

"I don't think I'd know if I were."

"Then shoot."

Azra hadn't realized the Bow was still in her hand. She studied its smooth curves with new eyes. Strong and subtle. She nocked inevitability on the string, aimed for a rusted car at the end of the street, and pulled.

* * *

TYPE: GUARDIAN CUSTOMS PROJECT  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Dark Ages; Jax, Azra; Larsen, Tevis; Six Fronts; Twilight Gap  
CUSTOMS ASSOCIATIONS: Arc; Death, Final; Void  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:0.1]: What went wrong back there?

[u.2:0.1]: I accidentally threw Arc into the mix. I was thinking Void is positive potential. Which, to be fair, it is, but that's the wrong viewpoint.

[u.1:0.2]: I don't know what you mean.

[u.2:0.2]: Arc is the space between Solar, negative potential, and Void, positive potential. Storm and calm. Movement between one and the other. You told me to fill an empty positive space with the living negative energy. I was thinking too much Arc-wise.

[u.1:0.3]: Funny. I've always thought Void is the space between Solar and Arc. Between stubbornness and flexibility.

[u.2:0.3]: No wonder the Warlocks babble so much, if all they do is think in circles all day.

[u.1:0.4]: Still. Always a wonder how much people can learn from an element that is mystery.

[u.2:0.4]: It's real good at giving perspective.

[u.1:0.5]: You said it explained a lot.

[u.2:0.5]: About you, why you are who you are. If you see so many people gone. Perspective.

[silence]

[silence]

[u.2:0.6]: I mean, you've seen the Dark Ages. Six Fronts. And me… there's a difference between theoretical knowledge and seeing something with your own two eyes. Guess I'm still dealing with the people I've lost.

[u.1:0.6]: Twilight Gap must have been hard on you.

[u.2:0.7]: Twilight Gap was horrible.

[u.2:0.8]: I didn't know where anyone was. If anyone was okay. Every time I stopped to even catch my breath, I'd wonder, is Shiro dying right now? Is Cayde? Has the City fallen?

[u.1:0.7]: We thought we were doing you a kindness by leaving you behind. Things got tough out there.

[u.2:0.9]: I ended up out there anyway.

[u.1:0.8]: That wasn't the plan. We knew it'd be touch-and-go. Didn't want to put you through that if there was a probably-safe place you could be instead.

[u.2:1.0]: Why did you guys go out, then?

[u.1:0.9]: There was work to be done. Unsafe work.

[u.2:1.1]: There are many things more important to me than my safety.

[u.1:1.0]: Of course, you've got resurrective immortality. Death is cheap.

[u.2:1.2]: Than my existence, then. I think the Gap made me realize that. There are things I really, really don't want to see gone.

[beat]

[u.1:1.1]: Everything dies, Azra. Everything goes away eventually.

[u.2:1.3]: And that's what I need to accept, for this. My death? Sure, fine, I've looked that in the eye before. But the people I know? Bit harder to deal with.

[u.1:1.2]: Most people seem content to worry themselves with their own motives and their own lives.

[u.2:1.4]: Someone I respect told me once that we're not here for our own sake. There's a lot more I care about than just me and my feelings.

[u.1:1.3]: Hm.

[u.2:1.5]: I wouldn't be who I am without all of you. You now that, right?

[u.1:1.4]: Some things are better left unsaid.

[beat]

[u.1:1.5]: This isn't one of them. I know I can be unapproachable sometimes. But thanks.

[u.2:1.6]: You're… welcome?

[u.1:1.6]: So kid.

[u.2:1.7]: Yeah?

[u.1:1.7]: Final part of the lesson. People aren't mind readers. You've got your perspective now. If you find yourself at some revelations… don't be afraid to speak them. You know how precious life is. Don't waste too much of it in the dark.

[u.2:1.8]: Thanks, Tevis.

[u.1:1.8]: Now, tradition dictates that you buy me lunch. Call your ship. I want Bibimbap.

* * *

July 14, 2872, 14:11

The camp was empty, save for the lone figure of the Crew's leader perched on a flat stone. The space had been cleared of debris and stray guns. A tidy stack of wood sat next to the banked coals of the campfire. The Gunslinger balanced a pad of paper on his knees as he scratched at it with a dented old pen.

Azra approached with a stride that was somewhere between an amble and a trudge. "Hey, Andal."

He looked up from his work and smiled warmly. "Oh, hey. How'd your Nightstalker lesson go?"

Azra shrugged. "Okay. Well, actually, horribly, but… okay."

"Sounds like a typical Tevis lesson. 'In much wisdom is much grief, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow' and all that."

"What?"

Andal set his pen down and patted the rock next to him. "Old quote from who knows where. But you look like a Guardian with something on their mind."

Azra sat. "Why do you bother with the pen-and-paper thing anyway? Paper's not common. Holograms can't get lost or wet."

"Do you remember how to write?" Andal asked in reply.

Oh, something new. Every now and then Azra still ran into unknown territory. "Uh… yes? Maybe?"

He flipped to a fresh page in the pad and handed her the writing implement.

Pen went to paper and lingered there for a breath. Then some ancient scrap of muscle memory guided her hand. _Azra Jax_ , she wrote in angular script. She studied the words, admiring the sharp back-and-forth of the 'z', the little curls on the ends of the 'a's, the uneven 'x'. "Huh. I guess I do."

Andal tapped the page. "Writing it down always makes it more real. There's just something about holding the pen. More solid."

_I am not a rookie anymore_ , she wrote. Apparently she had a tendency to write stubby lowercase 'i's. She went back over it, bolder.

Andal held out a hand for his pad back. Azra passed it. He paused for a moment, but instead of flipping back to his previous work, he scratched his own writing onto the line beneath hers. **You are barely four years old,** he wrote.

She took the pad back. _I survived Twilight Gap_ , she scrawled. The lowercase g looked more like an s. She ran over the right side of its loop again, completing it, before moving on. _More so than other people my 'age'. I've earned experience._

**True,** he wrote, **you work hard. You practice. What's this about?**

He passed the pad back, but Azra only stared at it for a minute, trying to collect her thoughts and shape them.

_I don't mean to sound petulant,_ she inscribed, slowly, deliberately, _but on missions you won't ask my input, when you do for the others. I know it's because I am new and I would defer to you anyway, but it makes it feel as if my observations have no merit. I don't feel entitled, but-_

She stared at the paper, at a loss. Her feelings were too complicated for letters to hold.

Andal gently teased the pad from her grip and finished her thought with deliberate strokes. **You deserve more regard than I've given you.**

"You're right," he said aloud, startling her a bit. The corner of his mouth was pulled back in wry acceptance. "You've definitely earned your keep. You've proved you can hold your own with us. With Guardians, age doesn't always match experience and ability. I… apologize. For not remembering that."

Azra nodded, and they sat in silence for a moment. Andal began sketching a little Traveler in the blank space left on the page. Dark cracks on bottom, unblemished shell on top. A tiny human figure and the dot of its Ghost looked up, dwarfed by the sphere.

Azra broke the silence first. "The worst part about the Gap was not knowing whether you guys were alive or not," she said.

Andal's grip on the pen tightened and the sketching stopped. After a moment, he began again, drawing a small hill for the ink-Guardian to stand on. "The worst part about the Gap was knowing you were dead and that my decision lead to your death," he admitted.

* * *

_"Fall back, Azra. Get yourself to the rally point," Andal commanded._

_"But-"_

_"You're too new. Your fights will come. But you'll die out there if you go."_

_"But-"_

_"Go."_

* * *

Azra was shocked. "When the wall fell? I survived. I'm fine," she said.

Andal stopped and stared at his (ink-stained) hands. "But if you hadn't survived, it would have been my fault. Because I wanted to keep you safe, rather than bring you along."

"My fault too," she rebutted. "I could have listened to you and fought my way back to the rally point after. But I didn't."

He turned his focus back to her. His dark eyes were full of… something. Pride? "It's so easy to just think of you as that lost Kinderguardian we dragged along to that lab in Portugal. But that's not right, is it?"

Azra, unsettled now, turned her attention to her own hands. Thanks to the Light, they bore no scars or scrapes. Her fingers were long, her fingernails ragged. She should trim them sometime. "I don't want to be overconfident-"

"Underconfidence can be just as harmful," Andal said. He gently tore their conversation page from its bindings and folded it. "It's probably too easy, if the Crew is your benchmark. We're pretty great. But don't sell yourself short, Jax." He took the compact square and tossed it into the banked coals before them. It smoldered and browned for a second before bursting into flames. Azra watched as the words turned to ash.

"…Okay," she agreed. Andal slung a warm arm around her shoulders. With his other hand, he flipped back the page and continued scrawling his notes.

"So," he began, writing and speaking different words at the same time (to Azra's amazement), "I've heard rumors about this Devils Splicer Priest named Dokris causing a stir up in Old Russia. You were just in the Plaguelands, what's the scuttlebutt?"


	13. Fitting In

No man is an island,  
entire of itself;  
every man is a piece of the continent,  
a part of the main;  
if a clod be washed away by the sea,  
Europe is the less,  
as well as if a promontory were,  
as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were;  
any man's death diminishes me,  
because I am involved in mankind,  
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;  
it tolls for thee.

Mediation XVII – John Donne

* * *

July 20, 2872; Old Sheboygan, Earth

Azra and Shiro stood at the shore, watching the sun rise. The ragged clouds above were glorious shades of molten orange and coral to contrast with the pale sky. The wind was mostly calm. The waves were gentle and lulling. The two drank in the beauty and peace of the morning, and talked.

"What did you see?"

Azra threw her arm and flicked her wrist. The stone went skittering across the waves. "Everything dead. The sun gone. Then Twilight Gap, but worse."

Shiro skipped his own stone across the water. It bounced five times before sinking below the surface. "So. How d'you feel now that you've confronted the inherent mortality of all things?"

"Strangely okay." Azra sized up the rock in her hand. Not flat enough. Spark produced a better one from somewhere. "Like, the abyss is there, but I don't have to stare into it."

Shiro hummed in agreement and let silence settle between them. Azra threw her stone. four skips.

"Hey Shiro."

"Yeah?" His stone went three skips before hitting a swell and faltering. He cursed.

"Why don't you ever like… talk? About things?"

Shiro crouched to gather more rocks, keeping his voice light. "What do you mean?"

"I can tell something's bothering you."

Shiro's next stone sunk below the waves without a single bounce. Azra kept her eyes on the horizon and waited, counting seconds in her head. One, two, three, four…

"I suppose it doesn't matter," Shiro finally said.

Azra tossed her rock in the air a few times, feeling its weight. "It matters to you, doesn't it?"

"No-one will remember this a hundred years from now. It's a temporary problem. Not worth aching over. I can deal."

Azra threw her stone with feeling. It bounced seven times. "Bullshit."

"What?"

"Just 'cause something ends, doesn't mean it wasn't worth anything. _Everything_ ends." She studied the Bladedancer beside her, the set of his shoulders, his feet in the sand. "...And I don't like to see you suffer in silence. If it's a privacy thing, I get it, but… talking helps. You'd do it for me."

Shiro stood stock-still for a moment, the lights in his eyes dim. Then he sighed, turned, and settled himself on a washed-up log. Azra dusted the wet sand from her fingers and followed suit.

The Exo clasped his hands in front of him, like he was about to give some formal speech. His chest swelled with an inhale, held for a moment… then the air escaped all at once, and he slouched, and spoke.

* * *

TYPE: GUARDIAN CUSTOMS PROJECT  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Dark Ages; Jax, Azra; Lee-4; Shinobu, Himura; Shiro-4, Six Coyotes; Vai, Therin  
CUSTOMS ASSOCIATIONS: Death, Final; Funeral; Arcstriders  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:0.1]: A good friend of mine died last week. Just got word of it yesterday.

[u.2:0.1]: Ouch.

[u.1:0.2]: Not the first time someone I've known has died, by a long shot.

[u.2:0.2]: Doesn't make it suck any less.

[u.1:0.3]: It doesn't.

[u.2:0.3]: What was their name, if it's no bother?

[u.1:0.4]: Lee-4. Nightstalker. She was old. Lived through the Dark Ages, the Great Hunt, Twilight Gap. She was a fantastic sniper. One of the original Six Coyotes.

[u.2:0.4]: The Six Coyotes? Like, Shinobu's Coyotes?

[u.1:0.5]: Knew you'd catch that. Yes, she was one of the Shinobu's Coyotes. Now it's just Therin Vai left.

[u.2:0.5]: Yeah. I've met Therin. Alright fellow.

[u.1:0.6]: Where'd you go to run into Therin Vai?

[u.2:0.6]: Oh, it wasn't a run-in. He tracked me down. Wanted to talk about the Arcstriding thing.

[u.1:0.7]: I guess that makes sense, considering how close he was with Shinobu.

[u.2:0.7]: Apparently I'm not up to snuff with the greatest Arcstrider of all time.

[u.1:0.8]: You get bugged about it a lot?

[u.2:0.8]: Yeah.

[u.1:0.9]: Sounds like it's a touchy subject.

[u.2:0.9]: It's weird, not really fitting in.

[u.1:1.0]: You seem to be doing fine from my eyes.

[u.2:1.0]: Because you guys don't care. Don't get me wrong, most Guardians don't care. The ones that do… it just gets annoying, mostly.

[u.1:1.1]: Have you had any success in teaching it to someone else?

[u.2:1.1]: Nobody's asked. Plus, according to Osiris, it wouldn't work anyways.

[beat]

[u.2:1.2]: So, Lee-4. What was she like?

[u.1:1.2]: She was quiet. Like I said, an excellent shot. I saw her once take down a Captain a klick away from the back of a moving jumpship. She was a little cussed, but pretty longsuffering. Serious. Almost underdramatic.

[u.2:1.3]: Cussedness seems quite the common trait in the old-timers. Lee, Tevis, Lord Saladin.

[u.1:1.3]: Makes one wonder how we'll be in a few hundred years.

[u.2:1.4]: If we make it that long.

[u.1:1.4]: Maybe it's the other way around, that only the cussed ones survive.

[u.2:1.5]: I guess they didn't call them the Dark Ages for nothing.

[silence]

[u.1:1.5]: What gets to me is that she just… died. She lived through some of the darkest times humanity's ever seen, killed countless enemies, mentored dozens in the Dusk Bow, including myself.

[u.1:1.6]: Then one day, she gets in over her head in a Hive tunnel, and that's it. Gone. Just like the shiniest of Kinderguardians.

[u.1:1.7]: It wasn't even close to the riskiest thing she's ever done.

[u.2:1.6]: It's a roll of the dice every time you go out. Every mission you take.

[u.1:1.8]: It's just messing me up. Nobody would expect her to turn up dead on a random scouting patrol.

[u.2:1.7]: Nah, I think she'd know.

[u.2:1.8]: If she'd been alive that long, she'd know the risks. If she was a Nighstalker, she'd have accepted them.

[beat]

[u.2:1.9]: There's… something I remember, a bit. A quote? Something like 'all exits are not made equal'. Sometimes you know. Sometimes you get to plan in advance, do a little bit of the processing before it happens. Get to make things how you want it.

[u.2:2.0]: But most of the time, you don't know beforehand. Sometimes it's messy and clumsy and leaves shattered bones. And sometimes the ending doesn't seem like and end, and you're left hanging on the edge waiting for the next step to come up beneath you, but it never does.

[u.1:1.9]: You've got some serious thoughts on this.

[u.2:2.1]: I feel like I've got experience being left behind.

[u.1:2.0]: Like Portugal?

[u.2:2.2]: Before that.

[u.1:2.1]: Ah.

[u.2:2.3]: But I didn't mean to make this about myself. I just wanted to say…

[u.2:2.4]: I think it's… okay? That this feels weird and wrong and sudden? Our lives aren't written by poets. We don't always get justice, and things don't always end how they should.

[silence]

[u.1:2.2]: Her memorial service is in two days.

[u.2:2.5]: What's it like? I've never been to one.

[u.1:2.3]: Really?

[u.2:2.6]: Twilight Gap doesn't count. Everyone was there. Group service. Lots of speeches, not too much… memorializing.

[u.1:2.4]: Well, it's different for everyone. With so many people from different places and times, the rituals can get pretty muddled. I'm guessing Therin will be in charge. He knew her best.

[u.2:2.7]: Would it be weird if I tagged along? I didn't know her personal-like.

[u.1:2.5]: I'm sure you'd be more than welcome if you brought some booze.

[u.2:2.8]: Ah, that kind of memorial.

[u.1:2.6]: It always is, with Hunters.

* * *

August 11, 2872; Veikko's Retreat, Venus

_You walk. It's bright here. The ground is smooth and even. You're not sure you're actually getting anywhere, but the movement feels right. Lights shimmer all around, shifting and changing._

_The Light asks, "Who are you?"_

_It's an important question, so you pause think. You don't have a name, or a history. But you do know yourself._

_What should you say? How can you shape yourself with words? Do you mention your stubborn streak? Your dislike for crowds? How you can read the sky? Your need for action and movement?_

_But to mention any one of those things first diminishes the others, and they are all equal parts of yourself. The first thing you say is the most impactful, but there is no one trait to define you. And this is a very important question. You must get it right._

_"Who are you?" The Light repeats._

_You try to figure some way to describe the whole of yourself at once, but the sentences fracture in your head. You hold all the pieces of yourself in your hands and you don't know how they fit together. Your fingers tremble and bleed._

_"Who are you?" The Light says again. Insistent. Demanding._

_You try to speak, but something blocks your throat. You cough up a wad of radiolaria. It clings to your shoes. If you look closely, you can see patterns formed in the rippling surface._

_"WHO. ARE. YOU." Screams the Light. You open your mouth to answer, but instead of words, only static comes out._

* * *

Azra woke in a cold sweat. Spark was at her side immediately. She shook off the last vestiges of the bad dream and poked her head outside. Still nighttime. _Two thirty_ , her Ghost whispered to her.

_Wake me at six_ , she replied. Then she curled back up in the corner, rock for a pillow and cape for a blanket.

Drifting off again was easy. It always was.

* * *

September 05, 2872; Panama Ravine, Earth

The Panama Ravine was impressive, to say the least. Azra contemplated the view from their perch atop and old watchtower. She couldn't do much else; Jaren Ward had disassembled his Last Word for cleaning and piled the stray parts in her lap. Moving was a no-no. There was no more planning to be done, no more weapons of her own to check. So, to pass the time, she asked the question on her mind:

"What happened here that's got you named a hero?"

Jaren Ward ran a swab of cotton down the barrel, smiling when it came out clean. Or maybe that was fond memories. "That was a long time ago, before Six Fronts. House Kings had set up shop here. This is the only way to get from North America to the South, barring sea or air travel. Used t'be all the refugee roads converged here. Crossin' the ravine ain't easy, moreso if you've got Shanks and Servitors and five hellbent Barons harassin' you the whole way. I was escortin' this group from Old New York. Alright folks. None of 'em deserved to die. Didn't matter; some of 'em did anyway."

Azra grunted in sympathy and handed a spring back to Jaren, who'd begun reassembling his gun. He continued his story. "I decided to do something about it. Told the group I'd catch up if I could. Then I cleared the place of Fallen."

"Can't have been easy," Azra said. The jungle around them was dense and dark, only interrupted by the chasm of broken, overgrown stone. Climbing the slick, sheer walls was a dangerous task. Yet climb people did; the ravine was too wide to be bridged by ladders or rope. A small but swift river of seawater rushed through the space, constantly eating out and undercutting the ground around it. The whole gorge was falling in on itself.

"Weren't easy. 'Specially back in those days. But it had to be done. So I did. Caught up and took that group all the way to the safe passes, but on my way back north I saw more Fallen had come. Got there just in time to see them massacre a group of 'bout twelve."

Azra hissed. Jaren's hand paused contemplatively over his gun. Then he slid the last piece in place and twirled the cannon on a finger. "Made 'em pay for every last one. Then I decided that the Fallen couldn't have this land no more. I stayed. Kept the place free an' safe, as could be anyhow. Reckon I killed 'bout a hundred Captains before they got the message. Had more than a handful of close calls.

"Then one day, I get reinforcements. 'Parently people had been telling some pretty tall tales back in the City, or what would become the City. Guy walks up and asks me if I'm the Angel of Panama. Told 'im rightly I didn't think Angels used hand cannons. He laughed. Anymore, more Guardians came, helped keep the passes clear. Things got pretty established. Realized one day I wasn't needed much, so I left."

"You don't seem the type for comfort," Azra commented.

"Neither do you," Jaren replied.

Azra shrugged. "Comfort's just complacency anyhow. Ship in the harbor is safe, but that's not what it's made for."

Jaren laughed, a clear, bright sound. "You sound just like Eider-17."

Azra dusted her pants off. "Never heard of her."

"Them," Jaren corrected. He loaded his hand cannon, quick and sure. "You know Dead End Cure?" Azra nodded. "Founding member, right there. Maybe I'll introduce you someday."

Azra rose and rolled her shoulders. "For now, we should get going. This Kings Archon isn't going to kill itself."

"I just cleaned my gun," Jaren half-complained.

"Well maybe you should have waited until our work is done," She scolded.

Jaren shrugged and stood himself. "Work's never done."

"That's truth if I've ever heard it," Azra agreed.

* * *

September 08, 2871; Shattered Coast, Venus

Call Transcript 626

O2: Is this Azra Jax?

AJ: Yes. Hello. Who is this?

O2: Ophelia-2.

AJ: Well, Ophelia, what can I do you for?

O2: Andal Brask recommended you to me.

AJ: He did? Huh.

O2: We're running a rescue mission. I want another person along for surety. The Vex are getting feisty. Andal said you're dependable and good in a fight.

AJ: Reckon I'm alright.

O2: A fireteam of four has gone missing in the Ishtar Academy.

AJ: That's close. I'm in the Shattered Coast right now, actually. Fate or design?

O2: We're desperate, I'm afraid there's not a lot of time.

[sound of a sparrow engine]

AJ: I'll be there in three.

O2: Traveler bless. I'll ping you the rally point.

* * *

October 1, 2872; Stalker's Peril, Appalachian Dead Zone, Earth

This Baron was bigger than average and was wicked fast with its shock blades. Azra thought longingly of her machine gun, long since run dry, as she danced between the swipes. She poured shot after shot into Fallen armor, but her sidearm just didn't have enough punch. She thought to gather her Light and Stride a little, but-

"Whoop- hup!" The ground beneath her feet crumbled and Azra was falling. Well, sliding was the more accurate term. At least the scree slope was free of obstacles. She dug her hands and knees into the dirt, trying (and failing) to stop her descent. The angle was just too steep. The real cliff, the lip of the quarry, was downhill still. Falling off of that would land her straight in the Fallen nest. No Bueno.

"Azra's down!" Cayde called on the comms.

At the last second, Azra reached out and grabbed the roots of a bush. That and a push from her light was just enough to keep her from going over the lip. "No I'm not!" She yelled. She heaved herself up on the shifting dirt, Light waxing Solar, and held out a hand for her Sparrow. She had an idea.

"Cayde, get an eyeful of this!" She jumped aboard, feathering the engines immediately to keep from sliding backwards. Then, leaning her weight all the way forward, she pushed to maximum.

The slope was basically a giant ramp, and she was going to pull the coolest stunt these Fallen had ever seen. She rapidly picked up speed until the dirt was a blur beneath her. At the top, she pushed off of her sparrow. It fell to the ground somewhere below and dematerialized. There wasn't time to think; Azra reached up and the Golden Gun bloomed in her hand. She was at the peak of her arc now, two dozen feet above the battlefield. The Kell didn't have time to make her out against the sky.

One shot, two, then the Devils Kell was ash and the Gun was nothing more than cinders in her hands. She was falling now, fast. Her sideways momentum was carrying her away from the hostiles, thankfully. She timed her air-jump wrong, too high, and stumbled hard on the landing. She managed to turn the action into a low, showy bow. Applause sounded on the channel.

"Oh, that's going in the compilation," Cayde declared.

"Compilation?" Spark asked.

"His 'Hunters are awesome' video compilation," Andal explained in a weary voice.

The Kell was dead, but the Fallen retreat was disorganized and chaotic. The five Hunters went about clearing away the confused and scattered hoards. This time, Azra stayed far from the edge, taking perimeter with Tevis on the south side.

"What is it with you and falling off of things?" The Nightstalker complained.

Azra grit her teeth, sidestepping a rocket. "Come on, it was just that one time!"

"Twilight Gap counts," he insisted.

She flapped a hand dismissively. "I didn't fall off the wall, the whole wall fell."

"You also fell off of Blackwater Pass then," Spark interjected.

_I thought you were on my side_ , Azra thought sourly. She pulled her scout rifle and picked out the Baron who had been giving herself so much trouble. "Fine. Two times." She squeezed off one shot, then two, smirking in satisfaction when the Fallen died.

Cayde butted in. "Well, three, counting that performance."

"And you fell off that catwalk on the A-team strike," Andal added.

"And Jaren Ward told me you managed to fall into the Panama Ravine just last month," Shiro quipped.

Azra danced back from a Vandal's swipe and tossed an Arc grenade at its feet. "Okay, geez, I guess it's become a habit. Get off my ass." Back to the sidearm, to deal with the closer-range enemies.

The Fallen were beginning to retreat for true now. The tension in the air faded a bit. Andal's voice was relaxed and humorous on the feed as he drawled, "I know I told you to put drops at your back so you can't get flanked. Maybe I should rescind that advice if all that does is get you pushed off."

Azra surrendered to the Void and aimed for a pack of Dregs near Andal. The Bow was steady and reliable in her hands, so if the tether landed a little too close to the pack leader's position, it wasn't a case of bad aim.

Andal yelped and dodged as the Dregs staggered, barely getting clear in time. "Brat," he muttered into the comms, even as his gun barked its deadly song.

Azra noted Tevis and Cayde's snickers on the channel, smiled, then turned back to her own work.

* * *

October 18, 2872; North of Old Tbilisi, Earth

"I'm glad I brought you on," the Exo said. "It's good to walk the refugee roads with an Arcstrider again." The dim light of the fire cast their face in sharp relief. Azra found herself studying the mechanisms of their jaw as they talked. They were alabaster white with brown detailing, which Azra thought was a particularly poor choice in coloring. Though they themselves were kept undented and scratch-free by their Ghost, the white showed the muck of the road all too well.

"Uh, thanks?" Azra replied, looking at her own hands. Her pale skin also showed the dirt well.

"Really. Travel suits you folk," Eider said.

Azra sighed and propped another log onto the fire. "No folk anymore, it's just me."

The silence of the night seemed so much more oppressive with Ilta off. Hopefully she'd be back soon with water so they could sort out a watch schedule. They'd have to get off to sleep soon if they wanted to be rested by sunrise.

Eider-17 sighed and stretched their feet out towards the flames. Azra wondered if Exos even got cold feet. The First Sibling seemed to appreciate the warmth, in any case. "Gotta say, Azra, didn't know what to think of you at first. Thought you might be hyped up on your own importance. Not half a decade into your life and you're already in the history books."

Azra shrugged. "Nothing I did. Two weeks into my life and I was in the history books just for existing."

"I was speaking of Twilight Gap. Kresten and Ilta said you pulled some pretty neat tricks out there. You've got a reputation.

"And not to insult Andal's Crew, but there are some pretty big egos in there. I thought that sort of… introduction into the world would lend itself to a big head. But you're just as down to earth as the rest of your kin were."

"I hate that." Azra immediately pressed her lips together, cursing in her head. She hadn't meant to say that.

"What?" Eider asked.

Azra cursed mentally again. One of these days she'd figure out how to keep her tongue under control. "I'm a Guardian and a Hunter before I'm an Arcstrider. I can pull a Dusk Bow and a Golden Gun, too. Yet everyone always goes for the one thing that's different."

Eider studied her with white optics. The lights in their throat glowed pink-red as they spoke. "It is a striking thing about you."

"I'd rather focus on what makes me part of a community. Or things that are actually conscious choices of mine, not just some fact of life."

Eider snorted. "You gonna demur your levelheadedness as a 'fact of life' as well?"

"There are other levelheaded people. You're not pointing out the one thing about me that's different that I can't change."

There was no sound for a moment other than the crackle of the fire. Azra rubbed her eyes, pushing at her sleepiness. Where was Ilta?

"Didn't mean to get all worked up. There are some people all too willing to reduce me to just my subclass and let that ride. Don't get me wrong," Azra straightened and spread her hands in a conciliatory gesture, "I love Arcstriding. It's a part of me. I just hate that it's the only thing I talk about sometimes. Being a curiosity can suck."

The marble-white Exo nodded in recognition. "I get that. I really do." Eider must have seen some doubt on Azra's face, because they leaned forward earnestly. "They didn't make too many sexless Exos."

* * *

_The ground is fertile. This is good land. We go to the tower in dreams but that doesn't mean it's not real._

_Some of us go to the tower in peace. They walk through a field of golden millet and a low warm wind blows in from their back. I don't know why this is._

* * *

Azra shrugged. "Who has time to care about that?"

She thought Eider-17 may have been smiling. It was hard to tell. "About as many people care about your Arcstriding."

A faint rustling of leaves was the only warning they got before Ilta stepped into the firelight. "I got the goods," she rasped. Azra slouched in her seat, feeling her body's pleas for sleep.

"Great," Eider said. "Who wants first watch?"

"Not me," Azra called.

* * *

November 02, 2872, 10:22

Andal studied the scene before him with the eyes of an experienced tracker. The camp had been abandoned, but the clues left behind told an interesting tale. He paced about, inspecting footprints, the scattered weapons, the hastily folded and haphazardly placed bedding. There had been a lot of movement, disorganized packing. A long-range comms booster sat partially dismantled to the side. Piles of personal effects lay waiting for their owners.

This camp had been well-used; shallow divots of sleeping spaces, tarnished cooking wares, a decently-sized fire ring with half-burnt logs still in it. He held his hand over the ashes. No warmth, purposefully quenched from the semi-charred state of the wood. They hadn't planned on needing fire here again.

He quieted his thoughts and opened up his senses to the world. There was no blood or spilled containers; no scuff or drag marks on the ground. He knelt to inspect the bootprints, noting the size, the tread shape, the length between strides. There was the faintest hint of Light still twisting in the air, too muddled to identify any individual but enough to confirm the camp's former inhabitant had been Guardians.

"So?" His Ghost asked.

Andal settled back on his heels. "If I had to guess, five people. Hunters, from the armor bits, and also Warlocks and Titans don't make long-term camps like this. The gear is top-notch, mostly. Five different boot treads. Five sleeping places. No signs of struggle. Obviously they were packing up to move camp."

"Obviously," Charin said dryly. "Can we get back to it?"

Andal sighed and gathered the cooking pots. "This would be easier if you helped."

"Hard work builds character."

Andal dumped the pots into a storage bin and went about collecting the various communal odds and ends that still littered the camp.

"So." Charin insisted.

Andal straightened up, scanning the surrounding woods for signs of Fallen. Everything indicated no enemies were nearby, but vigilance never hurt. "Send a message, official Crew channel. Get your asses moving over there. I want this done before lunch." He scanned the campsite one more time. Five sleeping places. "And also, meet at the Cave. 16:00 sharp."

* * *

November 02, 2872, "16:00 sharp"; Near the Last City

The Cave- that's with a capital C, looked unassuming from the outside. The entrance was almost lost in the undergrowth of the mountain slope, just large enough to crawl through without your back brushing the ceiling.

It was unassuming on the inside, too. The squeeze of an entrance lead to a thin, twisting corridor. Inside, beyond the sun's reach, the Cave opened into a roughly oblong room perhaps fourteen feet across by twenty long. The ceiling provided enough room to comfortably stand and nothing more. The opposite end of the space sharply tapered off into a thin crack leading deeper underground. There was the faintest breeze of airflow through the space.

The Cave was on no map. It had no name or moniker to dignify it beyond the capital C. Its very existence was (probably) only known to four people. But it was special. There was a circle of stones in the middle and bundles of dry kindling and wood in the corner. The stones were an eclectic mix, scavenged from the furthest reaches of the Crew's journeys: basalt from Venus, rusty sandstone from Mars, chunks of Vex structures and obsidian and granite and unidentifiable minerals from places the Sun barely touched. The ceiling was stained from the soot of many fires. One wall was marked by four handprints: two black, two reddish brown.

Cayde was the last one in, arriving at the fashionably late time of 16:12. The other three were already seated around the circle, quietly contemplating the small fire and basking in its reflected heat. This was a place for important conversations. Pack matters. Momentous occasions.

Cayde settled himself on the dusty ground as Andal stood. The flickering shadows cast on his face gave him a mystical look. The pack leader nodded at Cayde, then addressed the room. "I suppose there's no use in wasting time. Let's get right down to it. What do you guys think about asking Azra to join?"

There was a beat of silence. Shiro-4 nodded. He'd expected this was the reason Andal had called a meeting.

"'Bout time," Tevis grumbled.

Cayde himself stood, cleared his throat. "For the record, I am officially all for this. But for the merits of a healthy debate, I will take on the mantle of Devil's Advocate. You're welcome."

Tevis rolled his eyes.

"She's pretty young," Cayde started.

Tevis shrugged. "If that's so much of an issue, we could always just wait to ask her."

"Making a decision now would be best," Andal said. "I know for a fact D.E.C.'s got an eye on her. We may not have too long before they ask her instead."

"Is age really that big of a deal? I was only half a year older when I joined," Shiro pointed out.

Cayde nodded. "Fair, fair."

Andal had a counterpoint as well. "And young doesn't mean incapable. She's already got all three subclasses in her reach."

Cayde flapped a hand. "She can barely squeeze off two weak shots with the Golden Gun."

"And you can barely summon a Dusk Bow, much less fire it." Tevis jabbed.

Andal wasn't done. "Plus, she's been running just about every other mission with us."

"It's statistically significant," Andal's Ghost, Charin interjected.

Andal stared at his Ghost, horror spreading on his face. "Don't tell me you've been chatting it up with Falstaff's Ghost. We've got enough of the statistics bug going around with Shiro's Pace."

"Getting off topic," Tevis reminded them.

Cayde jumped back in. "Right, Azra's learning good. Been wondering about that. Are we _100%_ sure she isn't Himura Shinobu in disguise or something? Girl's gotten scary good with that Staff, fast."

"Get this," Shiro said, "she practices. Daily. For hours. How many Guardians just sit around wasting time between patrols? She's out there hitting trees with a stick."

Cayde tapped his chin. Sundance pulled up a holographic display for him to organize their thoughts. "So she's got a good work ethic going for her. Not exactly a plus side, I'd say…"

"Cayde!" Andal scolded.

"Fine. 'Girl will bust her butt' goes in the pro category. I'm still marking down 'maybe the reincarnation of Shinobu' in the cons column, though."

"Osiris doesn't like her," Tevis pointed out.

"Is that supposed to be a pro or a con?" Shiro asked.

Tevis shrugged. "All I'm saying is there's something weird there. Might not elevate us in the eyes of the Vanguard, if we're going to be political about it."

Cayde would have none of it. "The day I factor Osiris into pack decisions is the day I enlist in the Siege Dancers."

Andal agreed. "Cayde's right. What Osiris thinks is Osiris's problem. He's been pretty distracted as of late, anyways."

"Cool. Next point: she always puts her cold feet on me at night."

That drew a snicker from Andal. "Can hardly blame her there, hotspot. You're basically a spaceheater when the weather gets chill."

"She's good at listening," Shiro pointed out. "Knows when to be quiet, when to speak. Thoughtful about it, too."

"If we start listing things we like, we're going to waste time," Tevis said. "We all said yes, except for Cayde in his _insistence_ on a debate."

"A debate which brought up some good points," Cayde jabbed back.

"Fine," Andal broke in. "Before this descends into chaos, does anyone else have any pressing arguments?"

Silence reined. Andal looked between his three packmates and saw no hesitation in any of their eyes.

"Alright then. All in favor-"

"Aye," the three said in unison.

"All apposed…"

More silence.

"Well then, it seems all we have left to do is to decide when and where."

* * *

November 02, 2872, 17:24; Near the Last City

Andal was the last one out of the Cave. He stretched his limbs, luxuriating in the cool evening air. The others stood expectantly. Almost lazily, Andal called for Charin. She patched him through to the Arcstrider.

"Hey, Azra, how's it hanging? Good, cool. I'm doing fine. Listen, any chance you're going to be in the City tonight?

"Really? …Well, if you wanna stick around a bit… What? No. I'm just thirsty is all. Want to grab a drink?"


	14. More than Circumstance

Hey Brother, there's an endless road to rediscover  
Hey Sister, know the water's sweet, but blood is thicker  
Oh, if the sky comes falling down for you  
There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do

Hey Brother – Avicii

* * *

November 02, 2872, 16:47; The Last City

It was a little too early for the bar to be crowded, but there were enough people around to create a friendly atmosphere. Both Hunters sat comfortably, hoods down, happy to blend into the background. Over drinks Andal and Azra chatted about inconsequential things: the weather, what the House of Winter was up to, interesting things found on scouting patrols.

"Speaking of patrols," Andal said, "you running with anybody these days?" There was a spark of intense interest in his eyes.

Azra thought about it for a second. Jaren and Eider could hardly count. "There's a couple people I'll pick up with on occasion if the stars align, besides you all, but nothing permanent-like. Why'd you ask?"

The corners of his eyes crinkled in that way that meant he was smiling behind his glass. "Would you _like_ something permanent?"

Her heart almost stopped in her chest. She'd only been around a few years. Sure, to join a pack early wasn't _uncommon_ , but with Hunters this experienced? The Crew was downright legendary.

"You're asking _me_?"

He nodded.

Joy came. Then, the doubt. "Not to sound ungrateful or nothing, but, why now all of the sudden?"

He settled back in his chair with a sigh. "To be honest, we moved camp recently, and Cayde and Tevis were arguing about where you were going to sleep. Every mission I bring up, the first question is 'Where is it?' and the second question is 'Do we need Azra on this?' At this point it'd be less of a hassle, logistically speaking. I hate having to set up new comms channels all the time."

There must have been some disbelief on her face, because he leaned back forward over the table. "Listen. You've got a keen eye. You're dependable. Everyone trusts you to have their backs. You're young, yeah, but you have the makings of a great Hunter. Plus, that Arc staff is real handy when you've got two dozen Thrall crawling up your ass."

"I'll do it." The words were out of her mouth before she had time to consider them. As they hung in the air, she thought of the four of them. The way that Shiro was always up to watch the sunrise, no matter how late the night had been. Tevis' quiet companionship, his gruff exterior hiding a thoughtful and deliberate person. Cayde's almost childlike glee, the way he talked with his hands. The way Andal's voice would rumble when he was tired and the indulgent patience he had with all of the antics.

Her heart grew bold. She knew, with certainty, that this was the right decision. She nodded, mostly to herself.

That trademark grin peeked out from Andal's beard, and Andal pulled a scrap of red cloth from his pocket. "Finish your drink, then."

* * *

He led her through the streets blindfolded. They had gone for several minutes (and she was thoroughly lost,) when she thought to ask the question.

"So, where _am_ I sleeping, then?"

He chuckled. "Between Cayde and Tevis. Shiro needs a break from being the buffer zone. Now shush."

The next few minutes were, to be honest, kind of boring. She already had no idea where they were. They went up stairs, down stairs, across metal catwalks, over concrete, under arches, and through crowds of people. Without her sight, Azra was forced to use her other senses to try and keep herself from stumbling over the frequent obstacles. Andal at least kept her from outright colliding with things.

She had sound and touch, mostly. Slowly, over the course of the walk, something shifted. The Lightsense was always there as a hum in the back of her mind. With her sight gone, some unconscious part of her called it forward. It was no replacement for her eyes, but at least Azra could tell if she was about to run into someone or not. Andal's hand on her elbow was a comforting presence.

He felt familiar and warm. There were no words in human language to describe Lightsense. Perhaps the Warlocks had made some up, but one could only listen to someone drone on about thaumaturgic entropy for a few seconds before reflexively tuning it out. What she could feel was that Andal was a Gunslinger, perhaps not as straight and true as Cayde, but still powerful in his own right. There was a mischievous twist of Void to him as well, underlaid by a flashy vein of Arc. But more than that, he felt like woodsmoke smelled. Like hard, thirsty earth and dried sweat salt. He was like studying a compass intently, yellow candlelight cast through the smudged glass of a lantern. The sound of a pen on paper. It all mixed together into a shade of Light that was undeniably Andal.

Her thoughts were interrupted when he hung a sudden left, grabbing her hand to drag her along. They inched sideways through a gap, and then they were inside a building of some sort. The heat was almost oppressive after the cool night air. Andal pulled Azra forward. There were a lot of people in the room to avoid, but the elder Hunter just shoved right through them.

They were in a restaurant or bar of some sort. The smell of food and spilled alcohol permeated the air. People talked and laughed, chairs creaked, glasses clinked. Why they were here, of all places, Azra couldn't fathom. It was utterly unfamiliar to her.

Andal came to a sudden halt, Azra one step behind. He unhooked his fingers from hers and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Well, have fun," he said, suspiciously cheery. Then he walked off, lost almost immediately to the crowd. Azra stood alone. Her heart raced and her hands clenched reflexively into fists. Chatter still filled the room, underlaid by some unidentifiable song on the radio. Someone brushed by her, and she obligingly moved to the side, only to bump into someone else.

An unfamiliar voice to her left called out. "Girlie, your fireteam must either hate you or really trust you."

"What's going on?" Someone else nearby him asked.

"Shush, it's Hunter business. Ignore it and eat your food."

"But-"

A new voice spoke up. "Listen, this is a Hunter bar, not a library. You're lucky you haven't been kicked out yet, just ignore it and mind your own self. Nobody in here will tell you shit."

The push of the crowd carried her out of earshot. It was disorienting. No Andal to guide her here, just the press of bodies and the sound of chatter and music. She put her feet steady on the floor and focused. She was no Shiro, who could tell you there were three Fallen and a Shank in the next room over just by listening, but there was certainly _something_ Azra could gather from the hubbub.

She caught a whiff of something familiar on the breeze. It wasn't a smell, exactly, but some tenor of the Light refracted around the dozens of Guardians in the room. Silence and licorice and sea air. Focus like razors. She followed it through the throngs, navigating the crowds by touch.

Tevis was standing on the edge of some thicker crowd gathered around admiring Traveler knew what. In this strange, fractured world, he stood out as a beacon of Void Light. Azra knew that Light well from the lessons, the countless missions, from following a step behind down pitch-black corridors, one hand on her sidearm and one on the tail of his cape. Cayde always claimed he smelled like Thrall spit, but the scent of fresh earth and fallen leaves that clung to his clothing was actually mildly pleasant.

Azra reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him close. "I have no idea what's going on," she stage-whispered in his ear.

Tevis sounded amused. "For someone who has no idea what's going on, you did find me fast."

"I could smell the Thrall on you from halfway across the room. Followed it right over."

He punched her shoulder for that, but laughed all the same. "Well, Shiro owes me a drink now, so the Thrall smell can't be all bad. But you're doing right. Best of skill to you, Azra. Take it easy." A reassuring squeeze on her shoulder and he was gone, leaving Azra more confused than before she'd found him.

The crowd then became stifling as more people wandered over to see whatever it was everyone was looking at. Someone was boasting loud in the middle of the floor, but their voice was unfamiliar and Azra had other things to worry about. Namely, the extreme lack of personal space. The air felt like some deep Hive tunnel, devoid of oxygen. She was dizzy. The blindfold wasn't helping.

Eventually, she managed to push her way to a wall. Having one at her back was a big relief. She breathed carefully and pressed her hands flat against the smooth wood. The world righted itself. Normally here Spark would make some quip to lighten the mood, but he was distant in the link. Like he was far away, focused on something else.

This was a test then, she supposed. It made sense. The others would probably be around here somewhere. It would be a hard enough task to find them, what with the blindfold and the crowd. Maybe that's what the other Hunter had meant about the hating or trusting. This would be easier somewhere quieter. Azra was uncomfortable, here in this stifling, packed place.

She gave herself a minute to attack the problem logically. It would be more than just a test of Lightsense here. If she were looking for them normally, where would she check first?

Shiro hung to the edges of spaces, unseen and unobtrusive. He wouldn't be in the middle of this crowd. Cayde might have been, but Azra had a better guess on his location. Besides, she could use another drink.

She sidled along the wall until she heard the sound of clinking glasses. Sure enough, some shiny flame of familiar Light was there at the bar. It hit her again just how powerful the Crew was. There were plenty of Guardians in this room, but none that shone so brightly. She flexed her hands and wondered how bright she was.

Nevertheless, there was a man at the bar, who felt of supple worn leather and playing cards. Gunslinger, though and through. She'd seen him pull some Arc Blades and even toss a Void-infused grenade once, but it was obvious nothing left quite as an impression on him as the Golden Gun. His shine was obfuscating. Most people saw the flashy jokester, who talked circles around himself until he'd derailed his own train of thought, and looked no further. But there was something serious underneath the whiskey-butterscotch feel of him. Something steady.

Azra nearly knocked over the barstool sitting down. By the time she'd righted it and gotten her elbows on the bar, her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. "Cayde," she said in greeting, trying to cover her mortification with brevity.

"Well what's a pretty thing like you doing all alone in a place like this?" He drawled. He was milking it, leaning hard into his adopted accent.

Two could play at that game. Azra channeled her inner John Wayne. "I was just about to ask you the same thing, darlin'. Are you supposed to be drinking?"

"No. And neither are you." He pressed a small glass of something into her hand. "I won't tell if you don't." He'd been waiting for her.

"This better not be soy sauce," Azra muttered under her breath, recalling one particularly hilarious prank she'd helped him pull on a certain Nightstalker. She held up the glass for a toast. "Cheers, then." His glass clinked against hers, and they both downed their drinks. It wasn't soy sauce, it was bourbon.

Cayde's glass hit the bar and he let out a sigh. His Light settled about him in a contented way. "I know I don't normally say stuff like this, but… I'm proud of you."

He did say things like that occasionally, but not like this. There was no ego or joke in his voice. He was being serious.

"Really. I half didn't expect you to make it to the City, after that spectacular fall, and you never going to rescue beacon. And Twilight Gap was a real rude awakening. But you just keep getting back up."

"Thanks." She didn't know what to do with praise. Alaia Ruse never gave any. Zavala's always seemed insincere, somehow, all formality and obligation.

This was the part where Cayde was supposed to pull back up his walls and make some sly comment. But he just patted Azra on the arm. "You're gonna be great. Hang in there." Then he too walked off, leaving her a little baffled.

With the drink warming her throat and stomach, she sat for a minute to think. Spark was still distant. Azra guessed this test would be very unfair if she could just tell her Ghost to find people. Maybe he was doing his own Ghostly equivalent to whatever this was.

She chuckled at the mental picture of Spark in a blindfold.

Shiro was still out there, somewhere. Maybe Andal too. The Bladedancer was her best bet. Shiro didn't do direct, loud action. He wouldn't exactly be skulking in a corner, but he disliked crowds the same way Azra did. It was a pity she didn't know this place. He'd be in a side booth or lounge for certain.

Azra felt for him but caught no whiff. The atmosphere was starting to pick up tempo now, washing her in a confusing jumble of Light and sound. But no Shiro. Perhaps he was too far away to sense. She'd have to try the other side of the bar.

Confident in her next course of action, she carefully dismounted from the stool and nodded to whoever was behind the counter. She couldn't tell if they nodded back or if they even saw her. Hell, she couldn't tell if there was anyone back there at all, but it paid to be polite just in case.

Azra put her right hand to the wall and started walking. She thought she was so clever. She'd just chill in the corner and look for Shiro from there. If that failed, she'd do the next corner. She couldn't get lost if she had the wall the whole time.

She quickly ran into a problem. That problem was a table. Azra muttered apologies to the seated people and tried to go around it, but she quickly ran into another table. Someone bumped into her from behind. She put up both hands and went forward, and forward, and forward, but found no opposite wall. Just a crowd. The music here was louder. She was jostled by dancers.

Anxiety closed up her throat. Breathe, she told herself. Her hand went to the comforting grip of her belt knife. She breathed. The world slowly sorted itself back into focus. Lots of people. No Shiro. No walls. No calm spaces…

She turned left, best as she could, and let the crowd push her, figuring she'd come to the edge eventually. The river of people twisted and turned unexpectedly through the throngs. Eventually it opened to a delta. Cool air wafted in on the right from what she assumed was the door. Behind her, music still boomed. But in front of her…

Cyan lights and soft wool, the satisfaction of full magazines and perfect, quiet steps. Shiro held his cards (metaphorical and literal) close to his chest. He noticed a lot he didn't let on. Then he'd say something astute and you'd be as startled as if he slipped an Arc Blade between your ribs.

And here she was, startled, because he was just _sitting_ there, right by the door. There was a lounge area or something in the back corner of this place. The energy was a lot calmer.

Azra took another step forward and nearly fell down a small flight of stairs. She only saved herself by lunging forwards. Luckily, the stairs were only three shallow steps, and the floor was clear of people. She landed in a textbook crouch, to a small smattering of applause. Azra's face went hot again, knowing people were watching. It'd almost have been better if she let herself fall. The secondhand embarrassment would have averted some eyes.

She shuffled over and slumped on the couch next to Shiro, tugging her hood up to hide her face. Shiro scooted to accommodate her. "I think you lost your bet with Tevis," she muttered.

Shiro shrugged, his Light all casual and off-hand. "I can call on Andal interfering. I thought he was gonna drop you by the door, but he left you right by Tevis. Bastard winked as he passed, too. Maybe there's some collusion involved."

"Maybe he thought if he left me by the door, I'd make a run for it. This isn't exactly my kind of place."

"Mine neither," Shiro agreed. He picked a stray thread or piece of fuzz off of Azra's cloak. "Would you really have left if you knew where the door was?"

Azra considered the question. She could have taken the blindfold off at any moment, but the thought hadn't crossed her mind. Why? "… Nah. I trust Andal not to abandon me in a bar for no reason."

"Andal's worthy of trust." Shiro shifted again, stretching out his legs. "You know, I wasn't much older than you when I joined the Crew. You've only got me beat by a couple of months."

Azra shook her head. "We are getting a better name than that. The Crew is dumb. It's generic."

"You have to join before you get a say in the name, kiddo."

Azra's throat closed in anxiety. Was her joining still that in doubt?

Shiro mussed her hair through the hood. Azra's heart steadied. "Anyway, you trusted Andal to not leave you here for no reason. You can trust him to bring you out when the time is right. Chill here. It won't be long." The couch creaked as Shiro stood. The Exo groaned softly as she stretched out his back, muttering something under his breath about lumbars.

"Get out of here, stalker," Azra called in farewell. Shiro grumbled something unintelligible in reply and sauntered off.

Azra sat there for a few minutes. Then she realized that she had an entire couch to herself. She propped her feet up on the opposite armrest and settled into the cushions with a contented sigh. Couches were certainly one of the better inventions of Humanity. Spaceships had nothing on the love seat.

She felt Andal before she heard him. Now that she had this Light-sensing thing down, she had tabs on him as soon as he entered the door. He wasted no time in striding up to her couch, but when he reached it, he stopped and just stood there in silence.

She tilted her head up to face him. Still no words. "I know it's a hell of a view, but I don't have all night," she drawled.

Something warm flushed through Andal's Light. He swatted her propped-up shins. "Move."

"I just got comfy," Azra grumbled.

Andal laughed, "Fine then," and made to sit on her legs. Azra had to scramble to avoid being crushed. There was a moment of comfortable silence, then he spoke. "Well, Azra, you've certainly proved you know us well."

"Does everyone do this?" Azra asked.

She thought she felt him think over the question. "Well, yes, in one way or another. There are plenty of traditions. Everyone does things differently."

"Some of the other patrons seemed to know what's up."

He shrugged. "Hunters look out for one another. Nobody else will."

Azra tasted the tenor of the air. There was hesitancy there, but she thought it was mostly hers. "Don't get me wrong, I… this is amazing." Andal's Light seized a bit, causing Azra's heart to pound in response. Was he afraid of something? She scrambled to explain. "I'm just not sure I'm quite up to snuff with the rest of you."

Andal's Light settled, and Azra did her best to follow suit. "There's a lot more to pack than just physical skill," Andal explained, "Skill can be taught. Talent's only as good as you make it. Far, far more important is how you work with a team." He reached out to adjust her blindfold. "Can I trust you?"

"Of course," Azra said, meaning it more deeply than she could express in two words.

"Well then, there's that. It's not who would be the strongest in a fight, it's who I want with me in that fight. Osiris is a powerhouse, but I don't trust him like I trust Cayde, or you. Saint-14 is reliable, but he's not good company. There's a reason we distinguish between pack and fireteam.

"We're rezzed with virtually nothing. Just a Ghost. No family, no friends, no name for a lot of us. No history. No structures. Anything we have we must build ourselves. It's lonely, this world. I can't explain to you how lucky it was that you found us."

"In more ways than one, I think," Azra said.

Andal shifted, leaning forward on his knees. "Basically, I like you at my back, Azra Jax, and I want more than circumstance keeping you there."

Azra mulled on that a moment. Then she nodded. "So, what next?" She asked.

There was that warmth again. Humor? Happiness? "Now, we get you out of this stinky bar," Andal said.

"Thank the Traveler," Azra breathed, only half-joking.

* * *

The night air was pleasantly cool on her face. Andal lead her through the crowded streets, joy still tingeing his Light. Azra hadn't considered that they might be as eager for this as she was.

After a few minutes they came out of the crowds to a quiet space. The smell of damp earth and growing things permeated the air. A garden, a courtyard? Didn't matter too much, they'd be leaving soon; from the sound, there were a few idling Sparrows about. She recognized Cayde's and Shiro's Light from where they lounged against a wall. No Tevis, just the two Hunters, the Sparrows, and-

Spark. He flitted over to her shoulder, giving formless assurances and wordless chatter and little bright flecks of joy. A smile took Azra's face and would not fade, even when he settled down.

The two ready Hunters mounted up. Andal pushed Azra over to Cayde's Sparrow, so she clambered on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against the fabric of his cloak. Azra heard another Sparrow summoned, then Cayde revved his engines and they took off down the street.

* * *

An oddly terrifying Sparrow ride, the cold night air whipping her cape out behind her. Trying to read the shifts in Cayde's stance to know when to lean for turns.

Then a stumbling walk through rocky undergrowth.

Pushed gently down to hands and knees, crawling through some rocky entrance.

A long hallway of smooth, dusty stone. Cave air was warm and damp compared to the November chill outside.

A fire, from the noise and heat, and Tevis, from his Light against the back wall.

A firm hand on her shoulder, pressing until she knelt on the stone floor.

* * *

At last the blindfold was removed. Azra blinked a few times to bring the world into focus and indeed found herself kneeling before a small fire. The cave wasn't large, but there was standing room for the four Hunters in front of her and floating room for their Ghosts. As leader of the pack, Andal Brask stood front and center. There was a gleaming knife in his hand. He spoke.

"There aren't many traditions Hunters, all of us, hold. This is one of them. Everyone who joins a pack does this."

"This cave is ours," Cayde spoke up, "Those are our marks on the wall." Indeed, she looked to where he gestured, and there were four hand-shaped smudges on the smooth rock. Two a reddish brown, two black. Blood and oil. Human and Exo.

Shiro continued. "We don't have oaths we swear. But this is a promise. Do you know what it means to be pack? Both of you?" Azra nodded solemnly. This seemed a solemn place. He and his Ghost turned their eyes to Spark, who did his best to approximate the motion without a neck.

"Stand up, then." Tevis sounded more gruff than usual. His arms were crossed. Azra knew he was trying to hide his emotions behind surliness. It wasn't working too well for him.

As she obliged, Andal stepped forward to meet her. "Azra Jax. We, Andal Brask, Cayde-6, Tevis Larsen, and Shiro-4, invite you to join us." He grabbed her shoulder with one hand, and with the other raised the shining knife to her neck. She shuddered, but did not move. There was a gentle kindness in his eyes, and he squeezed the young Hunter's shoulder reassuringly.

There was the softest kiss of steel at Azra's jugular, a spark of pain, and the sensation of warm blood running down the skin of her neck. Andal grabbed her hand in his and pressed it to the shallow cut. When he let her pull it away, it was covered in blood. He gestured to the wall with his bloody knife.

"If you will stand with us, and ride with us, and fight with us, then put your mark on the wall with ours."

Azra looked at Spark. He looked back at her, blinking. She didn't have to ask him how he felt about this. He practically glowed with pride.

Azra turned to look at the four (or eight) others in front of her. Their faces were all set, but I didn't have to ask them to know what they felt, either. She could guess well enough at this point.

Did she have to ask herself? No. She knew her answer.

The stone was cool underneath Azra's palm. She held her hand on the wall for a moment, taking it all in. The mark was full and bold when she removed it. The color was brighter than the other two human prints, but it'd fade in time. Azra turned around, unable to keep a grin off her features-

-And was immediately beaned in the face with a damp cloth. Whatever tension was in the room broke as she sputtered and grabbed at it. Everyone was laughing, Spark and Azra included. Shiro had his arms (suspiciously) crossed and a look of smug satisfaction on his face, so when Azra was finished wiping off her hand and neck, she chucked the towel back at his head.

Now it was his turn to stammer and stumble as the blood-spotted cloth covered his eyes. "Turnabout is fair play," his Ghost, Pace, conceded. He transmatted the offending hankerchief out of Shiro's hands once the Exo was sure he was clean of bodily fluids.

Spark scanned Azra's neck in preparations to heal the (still slowly bleeding) cut. Andal handed her the scrap of a blindfold instead. "Let it scar, yeah? It'll make for a good reminder." Azra tied the tattered bandage around her neck. Andal smiled. "Now. Let's go celebrate."

That brought cheers from Shiro and Cayde. Purple glimmered in Tevis' hand, and the fire went out without so much as a puff of smoke, plunging them into sudden darkness.

* * *

November 03, 2872, 01:30; The Last City

"Why are we in the City, again?"

"Because," Cayde lamented, draping his arm (and a good portion of his weight) over Azra's shoulder, "We ran out of booze, and I am not _nearly_ drunk enough to try Andal's moonshine again. Tevis! We have reached the rendezvous point!"

"I wonder how many Fireteams use their official comms to find each other after a night out," Shiro mused.

"The way Zavala goes on about using the them responsibly, probably more than you'd think," a dry voice replied, from _behind_ them somehow. Tevis seemed to melt out of the shadows. Everyone startled.

Cayde shifted himself back upright to scold the Nightstalker. "Shank me with a rusty fork! You gotta stop doing that, man!"

Tevis waggled a bottle of whiskey tantalizingly in front of Cayde. The Exo grumbled forgiveness as he took it.

"Come on," Andal encouraged. "I know a place."

* * *

The quiet corner of the Hangar (well, not so quiet anymore) was a perfect place for in-City revelry. The strict ban on starting fires in the City was a huge bummer, but at least it was warm enough inside. It was almost like any other celebration they'd held; they told jokes and stories, made bets and dares (lower case d), and played games. Cayde and Tevis cleaned everyone's pockets in poker, and Azra won it all back in a few high-stakes knife games.

Perhaps Azra smiled more than usual. Perhaps she sat a little closer than she used to, spoke a little louder.

But the party burned itself out eventually. There just wasn't enough energy or liquor to sustain them the entire night. Unfortunately, the Crew's camp was several thousand miles and an ocean away. Nobody was sober enough to fly, and nobody wanted to be.

Shiro come up with the solution. "Andal's got a room now, yeah? Let's just sleep there."

"How did you know?" Andal asked, shocked.

"You've got _keys_ ," the Exo said emphatically, crossing his arms. "Nobody's ever got _keys_ unless they got a place."

Andal scowled at the Bladedancer. "Alright," he relented, "way to ruin the surprise I guess. It's the Crew's room, unofficial-like. You're all getting _keys_ -" he copied Shiro's peculiar emphasis, "It'll get used often enough to be worth it. The five of us might be a tight fit-"

"I call under the bed!" Tevis interrupted.

"Second!" Azra got in before anyone else could speak. Tevis held up a hand for a high-five, which she delivered enthusiastically. Under the bed, while lacking the cushioning of on top of the bed, was superior in every other way. This is a well-known fact among Hunters.

"You guys can try," Andal interjected, "But I got a futon."

* * *

In the end, they settled for simply dog-piling on the futon, once all the armor and guns were removed (thank the Traveler Ghosts aren't affected by the state of their Guardians). Several minutes of squirming and pushing followed until everyone found at least a semi-comfortable position. The Ghosts found their perches on shelves, chairs, or the desk.

There was the solid heat of Shiro to Azra's back and the softness of Tevis' arm to bury her face in. Her arm was slung over him in turn, rising and falling with his steady breathing. Someone's fingers were tangled in her hair. Cayde was already snoring.

She almost didn't want to drift off, if just to have the moment last a bit longer.

But she knew there would be other nights.


	15. Directionally Challenged

You can't feel the heat until you hold your hand over the flame  
You have to cross the line just to remember where it lays  
You won't know your worth now son, until you take a hit  
And you won't find the beat until you lose yourself in it

Satellite – Rise Against

* * *

September 02, 2880; Burning Lake, Luna

The lunar dust hung in a fine haze over the battlefield like the gunsmoke of some ancient war. The center of the field was still, but there were still pockets of fighting along the edges. It was nothing too serious, thankfully, just directionless Thrall and the occasional Acolyte. The real threats had been mopped up already.

Perhaps 'mopped up' was the wrong term, more like 'hammered repetitively until they finally gave up' or 'filled with half their body weight in lead'. It had been a long fight. Azra, for the first time in hours, settled back on her heels and took a moment to breathe. Regolith and chitin powder clung stubbornly to her clothing. Thankfully her helmet had a good filter on it. Her guns would need some serious cleaning after this.

The sound of heavy footsteps sparked her attention. She readied her sidearm and turned-

But it was no Knight, just Lord Shaxx. His grenade launcher was slung across his back. His fists were stained with Hive gunk. "Azra Jax! What news have you for me, Hunter?" He asked.

"Shaxx," she nodded in respect. "Everything's clear on this end. Just thrall, but…" She looked at the scattered, still-sparking corpses around her and shrugged.

"And what of casualties?" He knelt to inspect an Acolyte's skull and got shocked for his efforts. The chitin still held charge. "Sorry," Azra said, "may have gone a bit… overboard. Everyone in my team is fine physically, but Veikko-4's lost his Ghost." She grimaced. "I know one of the D.E.C. fireteams lost someone too. Maybe more. Comms have been spotty. We've been going ping-based, passing from Ghost to Ghost. News is slow coming."

Shaxx rose from his crouch and dusted his hands off. "That's fourteen casualties so far."

Azra nodded. "These Hive are nasty."

"You're bleeding," Shaxx said, sounding alarmed. Azra's hand went to her side automatically. Indeed her fingers came away tacky and red. She must have bled through her bandages.

"Cover me?" she asked. There were no hostiles in the immediate area, but she didn't want to get caught out of armor if some did show up. Lord Shaxx nodded and readied his grenade launcher.

She shrugged out of her vest as Spark summoned her least-favorite cloak. It was already haphazardly torn from her first attempt at medicine. Guardians didn't usually carry gauze (why bother?), so cloak fabric would have to do. Azra mechanically went about ripping it (or what was left of it) into strips as she talked. "Their swords are… they aren't quite like anything I've seen," she explained, "Like edged Darkness. Cuts don't heal too well. If I hadn't dodged, if not for my armor…"

"I don't know if I could rez you from a death from a weapon like that," Spark said. "As it is I don't think I'll be able to heal this for at least a few hours."

* * *

_"What do you think, Spark?" She whispered. Her Ghost had that funny way of reassuring her of injuries that sounded like a world-weary physician. Now he sat silent and motionless on the ground next to her. "Just a sprain, or a hairline fracture to the Lateral Malleolus?" She saw nothing obviously wrong with the ankle (besides the swelling), but it hurt a lot. "Best just to splint it, then?"_

* * *

Azra shrugged and started re-binding the cut. The motions were weird in their familiarity. She'd never had to do first aid before, in this life at least. Luckily the wound wasn't too deep. Azra really hoped she wasn't going to get some weird Hive-infection from this. Normally Guardians couldn't get diseases, but normally Spark could heal her wounds. "The swords can jank a Ghost pretty bad, too," she continued. "From what I hear that's how Veikko lost his."

Shaxx growled as she slipped her blood-stained shirt and ripped vest back on. "This does not bode well for the Vanguard's upcoming operations on the moon," he declared.

Azra surveyed the battlefield again, shaking her head. The dust was beginning to settle on the bodies of the fallen. There were Guardians there, amongst the Hive. "No, if it's like this at Mare Ibrium, it'll be a disaster."

* * *

September 25, 2880; The Cave, Earth

"It'll be a disaster. The Crew is not going," Andal decreed.

"Alright," said Cayde.

* * *

September 25, 2880; The Last City, Earth

"So, are you in?" Cayde asked.

"'Course," Azra said. "Why do you think I'm buying all this junk?" She dumped more gauze rolls into her basket. Her eyebrows furrowed when she came across a strange item. "Why's there a sewing kit with the first aid stuff?" she asked her Ghost.

He clicked and scanned the kit in question before explaining. "If a wound is too deep, it may have to be sewn together to stop bleeding and heal properly."

"Ew." Azra made a face, but dumped the kit into her basket anyway.

"It'll just be me and you," the Cayde warned.

"I'm not expecting to win this," she said. "Just thinking we could help."

Cayde idly turned a bandage roll over in his hands. "Who knows? Maybe Burning Lake was the fluke and this'll go over well."

"Doubt it."

* * *

September 27, 2880; The Last City, Earth

TYPE: Transcript  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Cayde-6; Great Disaster, The; Hive; Jax, Azra; Omolon  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:0.1]: Why are you bringing a sidearm? Hand cannons have more punch.

[u.2:0.1]: There's such a thing as overkill, Cayde.

[u.1:0.2]: I refuse to believe that.

[u.2:0.2]: At the cost of speed and accuracy? Sidearms are good for Thrall. Get 'em all lined up and just mow 'em down. Plus this one's got a dragonfly spec.

[u.1:0.3]: What about them new Omolon sidearms?

[u.2:0.3]: I got one as backup, but they don't have dragonfly.

[u.1:0.4]: You like explosions a little too much.

[u.2:0.4]: Who doesn't love explosions?

* * *

September 28, 2880; Mare Ibrium, Luna

Green fire burned in the sky like some twisted aurora borealis. The lights did nothing to help illuminate the writhing hoards. Thrall shrieked and cried. Acolytes hissed. Knights made no noises but the plod of their feet on the lunar dust and the crunch of their swords in human bone. Far away, just on the edge of hearing, there was singing. Or perhaps it was screaming. It made Azra's ears ring.

* * *

Monstrosities came, great lumbering beasts who scorched the field with purple fire. A company of Titans charged one, only to be put down by the Knights that gathered around its feet. Azra shot the bulbous mass of its head with her scout rifle. It only served to draw the thing's attention, so Azra and Cayde had to hunker down behind their rock as purple light danced about them.

"I don't think this is going too well."

* * *

_"Stay in the shadows. The shadows!"_

_"This is the craziest thing I've ever done!" ꙰ yelled._

_Laughter bubbled up Azra's throat. "You're not alone, there!" She peeked around cover. This close to the Sun, the air itself seemed to be made out of fire. "Follow my lead!"_

* * *

Wei Ning was dead, impaled on a sword made of Darkness. Others were dying by droves, falling to the Knights and not rising again. In the distance, terrible harmonies wove together a song of the end. Azra went back and forth between urging on the river of retreating Guardians and pouring shot after shot into the enormous Knight that ambled towards their position. The bullets seemed to have no effect on the creature, other than drawing its ire. Fine. While its attention was focused on her, it wasn't killing more Guardians. When the last of the stragglers were through, she pulled the disappearing trick and made her distance.

* * *

A Warlock stumbled and fell. Azra leapt to his defense, summoning her Arc staff to her hand. The Knight (regular-sized, this one) staggered under her rapid flurry of blows, giving the other Guardian enough time to scramble away. The Hive swung an overhand cut at her. She raised her staff to block it, but the sword was sharper than death itself. The Staff vanished with a surge of Arc energy. The blade seemed to drink it up.

* * *

There was a pack of Thrall closing in, and the Knight's swings were getting harder and harder to dodge. She had no room to give. The edge of the crater was one step behind her. The shout of Guardians was drowned out by gunfire and unearthly screams. She aimed for a natural chokepoint in the rock two dozen meters away. A good stalling point for them as any. Azra gave all of her fear to the Void, and then she pulled.

* * *

_The Fanatics were closing. Azra's eyes picked apart their formation, but there was nowhere that even offered her a chance. She was hit square in the chest, armor barely taking enough of the brunt to keep her skin intact. She flinched, the second shot hitting slightly to the left. The flinch saved her._

* * *

Thrall died around her, scorched by Void and Solar, but it was too late. One leapt out in front of the rest. It died as she jammed a knife in its throat, but the body's momentum sent them both over the edge.

* * *

_At least it's not a tunnel _, Azra mused as she tumbled down into the crater. The slope was steeper than she thought it'd be. Soon she was skipping like a stone on the waves, each impact/ bouncing her off the wall anew. Clouds of fine lunar dust rose in her wake. Eventually the curve evened out and Azra managed to turn her roll into a sprawling skid. She prayed there wouldn't be anything waiting at the bottom of the crater. She couldn't see straight.__

* * *

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEEDPARTIES: Two [3]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2]; One [1] Ghost-type [u.3]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Cayde-6; Great Disaster, The; Hive; Jax, Azra; Mare Ibrium [Earth's Moon]; Ruse, Alaia  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:0.1]: What the hell is it with you and falling off things?

[u.2:0.1]: Now isn't the time, Cayde!

[u.1:0.2]: Head up the south side. Not much Hive there. Alaia Ruse is trying to pull together rescue ops.

[u.2:0.2]: Are long range comms back up?

[u.1:0.3]: No, Alaia's here. Going off a ping-blast network, like Burning Lake.

[u.2:0.3]: Not good for solving our transport problem.

[u.1:0.4]: We're just going for a general retreat here. We get far enough away, we might be able to get through the interference and call more ships.

[u.2:0.4]: Anyone told the pilots we do have running about that?

[u.1:0.5]: Can't get through to 'em.

[u.2:0.5]: Damn.

[u.1:0.6]: You coming or what?

[u.3:0.1]: Almost there. We had to re-route around one of those pimple-headed things.

[u.1:0.7]: Glad we brought those medical supplies now.

[u.3:0.2]: I still have more, when we get there.

[u.1:0.8]: Good, we'll need 'em.

* * *

September 30; Near the Last City, Earth

Andal's message had said to meet at the Cave, so they went to the Cave. Azra gathered firewood. Cayde killed Fallen. They watched each other with nervous eyes, not really knowing what to expect. They'd known Andal might have been a bit unhappy with them, but his voice on the comms belied a much deeper anger than either of them would have anticipated.

Through the entrance, down the corridor, to find three Hunters seated around a fire in the middle. Azra had a chunk of moonstone in her pocket for the fire circle, but…

"Oh good," Andal said bitterly, "you're alive."

Cayde snorted. "'Course we're alive."

Azra read the room (er, Cave). Andal's arms were crossed. A frown pulled at his features beneath the beard. Shiro stared back at her, unreadable as ever, but Tevis… Tevis was _pissed_. You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him. Cayde stepped forward, never one to shy away. Azra dropped the firewood in the corner, hanging back.

Andal stood to face Cayde, gesturing angrily. "Well what am I supposed to think, when you go off on some asinine, harebrained scheme and drop off the face of existence for a day and a half?"

Cayde got defensive. "Hey, blame the Hive for that. I didn't choose for comms to go down."

"You _chose_ to go on a risky and potentially deadly mission when I told you not to!"

"Hey hey hey." Cayde put his hands on his hips. "You never told us not to go."

"I said we weren't going to Mare Ibrium."

"You said the _Crew_ wasn't going, not that I couldn't."

"You knew perfectly well what I meant."

There was a lot of animosity in the room. Everyone was on their feet now. Azra took a deep breath and moved to stand by Cayde. They'd known they'd been stepping on some toes, but-

"We did good out there," Cayde argued, "Things woulda been a lot worse, if not for us, and the people like us."

That was finally too much for Tevis. He _shouted_ at the Gunslinger. And Tevis didn't shout. "Worse? Cayde, you almost got both of you killed! Your Ghosts dropped me the feed as soon as comms went back up. Worse enough that you did this, but you roped her into it too?"

That lit the spark of her anger. Azra had made the choice with eyes wide open. She was far from gullible. The Arcstrider crossed her arms and raised her chin. "Stop pretending like this was all his decision. He didn't rope me into anything. I chose to go."

Speaking up was the wrong move. Tevis rounded on her. "Then you're an idiot! You were at Burning Lake, just like the rest of us! You saw it! Whatever possessed you to run off to Mare Ibrium?"

Andal continued chiding Cayde off to the side, but Azra's focus was set on Tevis. She met his gaze unblinkingly. "Like you said, I was at Burning Lake. They had to have some people there who knew up from down." She struggled to keep her anger from her face and voice, mostly succeeding.

Tevis didn't bother hiding his anger. "Then you walked into a disaster that you _knew_ was going to be a disaster. I thought you blind, but you're just dumb. Rightly you should have died your final death there!"

Heat rose in Azra's cheeks. "I'm not incapable of handling myself!" she spat.

"You almost kicked it at Burning Lake, then you willingly went off and almost kicked it at Mare Ibrium! At this point, I'm not sure you _are_ capable of handling yourself! Or at least not of making smart decisions!"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm still alive."

"Because you were lucky, not because you had the skill!"

Anger wasn't quite the right word anymore. Azra found herself in the icy river of fury. Her face was numb. Her tongue slipped its leash. " _You wanna throw, then_?" she said, low and clear. Electricity crackled in her hands and she took a threatening step forward. "See how good I am?" Tevis actually backed off, wariness in his posture and _fear_ in his eyes.

Later, Azra might have feelings about that. For now, she rolled her shoulders and flicked the excess Arc from her fingertips disdainfully, never breaking eye contact.

Silence hung in the air like a stifling shroud. All eyes were on her. Azra cast her gaze to the ground almost stubbornly, crossing her arms. With her shoulders hunched it was more of a defensive gesture than anything else.

Andal sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, addressing both Azra and Cayde. "Listen, if I say we're not doing something, you better know I have a damn good reason for it."

Cayde shot back. "Well, I thought your reason was dumb."

"I am leader of this pack. What I say goes," Andal said in his _this-argument-is-over_ voice. Normally that was the end of things. But-

Cayde refused to back down. "And if I challenge you for leadership?"

There was a beat of absolute silence (or maybe Azra had gone deaf from shock). Not even the fire crackled. She wasn't sure her heart was going anymore. This was _not_ where she thought the conversation would be going.

"You wouldn't," Andal said.

But Cayde had no bluff to be called. "You've been holding us back. This has proven that." And true, they hadn't gone on any risky ops for… how long, now?

Tevis would never go for it. Cayde didn't have a prayer of a chance if he didn't have a majority behind him. Tevis would side with Andal, guaranteed. But Shiro had been silent this whole conversation. He was always a bit of a wild card…

Cayde looked at Shiro. The stocky Exo's frame was frozen for a moment. Then, almost reluctantly, the orange hood rose and fell with a nod.

Both Andal and Cayde turned to look at her. Azra felt like a deer in headlights. Now all four of them were staring, silently asking her to make a decision. The future of the pack was on her shoulders (well, everyones', but with all their choices made it fell on her.) Who she chose to side with could change everything. It could see them regaled to overcaution or cast into recklessness. Her decision had the very real possibility of splintering the pack. Would Cayde back down and follow Andal if she said no? Would Andal stay with them if she said yes?

This was not a decision she could make. This wasn't a decision she even wanted to _consider_ making. She opened her mouth… "Nope. Fuck this. Nope, no, nope."

She turned tail and all but fled from the cave, stumbling over her bundle of firewood on the way out.

On the surface, her harried walk turned into an all-out sprint. The wind was picking up. Would it rain soon? Azra summoned her fastest Sparrow and raced off in a random direction, not even really seeing where she was going. Behind her was a big mess of nope and she was not touching it with a ten-foot Arc staff.

Did anyone shout after her? She stubbornly refused to listen for it. Her grip was white-knuckled on the handlebars.

Where could she go where they wouldn't think to look for her? Obviously not Earth. Mercury or Titan or Phobos would be fantastic, if she didn't hate them so much. Luna was still too much of a hotbed right now.

_Io_? Spark suggested. Azra nodded. Io would work.

* * *

October 04, 2880

Io had been nice, if a tad populated. She killed some Vex, wandered a bit, then decided to go somewhere a bit less… hospitable. Io's windswept plains left her too much time to dwell and too many people to strike up uncomfortable conversations.

She'd had Spark cut them off from the City networks. She didn't know even if anyone was trying to contact her. Frankly, it was better that way. She needed time to think, consider the angles.

So she went to Venus. Nothing helped one solve unsettling existential problems like killing lots and lots of Hezen Corrective. She was skirting a little too close for comfort to the Citadel when she spotted and tracked a House of Winter band back to their lair, and well… the rest was history.

The place had been blown open by some explosion. Sabotage? Accident? Infighting? Didn't really matter to her. Kosiks Prime was floating there in broad daylight.

There was a moment of hesitation before Azra charged in. In truth, Tevis' words had had an effect on her. Part of her whispered _are you really strong enough to do this? Aren't you being reckless?_

She shook it off, and later standing in the shattered remains of the Prime's shell, she knew she shouldn't have doubted. She'd worked damn hard to know herself and her body well. Knowing your limits was the first step in surpassing them. If she was lucky at all, it was because she made her own fortune.

Azra reluctantly connected to the official Vanguard net. Personal issues aside, the brass needed to know about the death of a Prime Servitor. Her report was complete, but hasty. Nervousness tied her tongue.

She was afraid of what she would find in her inbox, but there was only one message waiting for her.

From Tevis: "I know where to find you when you want to talk."

Did she want to talk?

* * *

October 04, 2880; Old Portugal, Earth

He was waiting for her at the cliff. Azra felt a bit of guilt. It was early evening in this part of the world. Had he been sitting here all day? Even worse, the fields were still damp with recent rainfall.

Azra attempted a joke as she approached. "You make a bet with Andal or something?" Tevis seemed relatively dry, at least. He gave no sign that he'd actually heard her speak. Azra sighed and settled a comfortable distance away on the cliff's edge.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Azra picked at loose threads and sharp edges on her gear. Turns out taking on four Barons in hand-to-hand combat could leave one a little dented.

"There's a little shack 'bout a quarter mile from here," Tevis finally said. Why was the shack relevant? Was it a response to her rain comment? Was it some sort of peace offering? Did he want to take this conversation inside? With Tevis, it could be hard to know. It was always meaning within meaning.

"Can we speak plain?" Azra asked. "This is… confusing enough without all the double-triple speak."

There was silence for a moment. Then, with a groan like dead trees in the wind, Tevis shifted to face her. "Listen, kid… I'm sorry I called you incompetent." He finally seemed to notice the state of her armor. "What have you been getting up to?"

Azra shrugged. "Killing Kosiks Prime, mostly. Got a few Winter Barons too."

He was incredulous. "You decided your best course of action was to hunt the House of Winter's Prime Servitor. Alone," he said, more statement than question.

She plucked a blade of grass from between the stone cracks and watched it twirl away on the sea breeze, refusing to make eye contact. "It wasn't the plan originally, I just caught them in a bad position. And… I needed to know that I could."

"That wasn't very smart."

Azra finally looked him in the eyes. At this point, she was just… tired. "It was fine. I'm fine. I know you're worried about me, but I can handle myself, even if I act stupid sometimes."

They sat in semi-comfortable silence. Azra turned a chunk of stone over in her hand, thinking. She chucked it, watching it careen into the waves below.

"About Mare Ibrium… I'm sorry I went behind your back. But I'm not sorry I did it. We helped a lot of people."

"You shouldn't have been the one to do it."

"I'm a veteran of Burning Lake and more Luna scouting missions than I can count."

"But you're only-"

"Are you going to look me in the eyes now and tell me I haven't been through enough to know what I'm about?" she asked, all quiet.

He swallowed his words and had the humility to look ashamed.

"I would think you, of all people, would know better. You can't keep me from dying ever, Tevis."

"That doesn't mean I want you to die at the ripe old age of thirteen."

"I'd rather die doing something good than live cowering in fear of death." Her words were filled with conviction.

"Look where it got Wei Ning."

Azra shrugged. " _Also, look where it got Wei Ning_. She wouldn't have been who she was without a good dose of recklessness."

Tevis shifted and dug a loose stone from under his leg. "Kosiks Prime, huh? Venus?"

"Some House of Winter den was all blown up. Dunno why, wasn't about to ask questions. They were in the process of moving out or something, the Servitor was just floating there practically unguarded. Tether and a couple rockets did the trick. Well, more than a couple. It was the Barons that were the real trouble."

Tevis didn't comment on that. Azra looked up to meet his eyes. Half a decade ago, she would have been confused. Now, she understood the question he was asking.

"I don't want the pack to split up," she admitted. Fear and worry made her eyes sting.

Tevis shook his head. "It'll take a lot more than this to tear us apart," he said, gentle. "Cayde was just being foolhardy."

"Cayde was also right." She stared down, to the waves dozens of feet below. "Andal's been getting cautious. Playing it safer. Maybe too safe. Haven't you noticed?"

After a moment, he nodded reluctantly. "I noticed it."

The silence stretched on. Azra grew restless. "So, how's…" she began to ask.

"We're doing fine. Cayde left after you did. Can't get in contact with him, but he probably needs more time to cool off."

"And…?" Andal.

Tevis' expression was dark. "He's kind of tearing himself up about it."

Azra closed her eyes, feeling the sea breeze as it played across her skin. _It will end eventually_ , she told herself. _Some day this_ will _fall apart._

_But not today._

She opened her eyes, stood up. "Alright, let's go."

"Where?" Tevis asked.

"Where else?"

* * *

October 04, 2880; The Cave, Earth

Andal looked… scared. There was no other good word for it. His stance was sure, but his shoulders were drawn a little too high. His eyes were part anxiety, part wariness. Azra paused at the room's entrance, studying him.

A knot of worry unraveled in her heart. If he was as afraid of losing her as she was afraid of losing him, they'd be alright. Azra stepped forward wordlessly and wrapped her arms around her leader. He relaxed in her embrace.

"I'm not leaving," she murmured into his scarf. "I'd never leave. Never. I was just… scared. Of what could have happened."

His arms came up to squeeze her. His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke. "It was unfair of me to ask a decision like that from you. From any of you," he clarified, looking to Shiro and Tevis. "If there are differences between me and Cayde, then we should work it out ourselves."

Azra pulled back, looked him square in the eye. "No. Your troubles are mine. Your burden is mine, too. That was my promise and my word. Still is. I will fight my way to the gates of hell and beyond for this, and for you all."

She waited until Andal swallowed and nodded before she continued. "But you," she poked a finger at his chest, "need to let me."

Andal wasn't scared anymore, but he looked sad. "And your safety is my safety," he continued. "Your well-being is my concern. I can't just let you go on suicide missions! Mare Ibrium was- and continues to be- an absolute disaster. You knew that. Why did you go when I told you not to?"

Azra chose her words carefully. "There's a line between bravery and insanity. Maybe we crossed it. But we were in a position to help when nobody else really was. It was stupid, maybe," she shuddered, remembering the green-fire sky and the far-off death songs, "but it wasn't wrong. There's also a line between caution and cowardice, and I'd be lying if I said that we haven't been on the far side of it recently."

Shiro finally spoke up. "Andal, we're quasi-immortal warriors brought back to life to fight Humanity's battles. Safety is not concern numero uno."

A tired smile broke out on Andal's face. "I feel like you're all going to jump off a cliff sometime because it seems like a good idea."

Azra grinned in response. "Take it from a professional cliff-faller: sometimes there's no other way to get where you're going."

Tevis stepped forward. "Andal, we all know the risks. We all know why we're here. Holding us back isn't going to do anyone any favors."

Andal heaved a sigh. "Alright. I understand. But… could you blame me?"

"Hardly," Azra said. "But could you blame us? It was going to be an absolute catastrophe. Nothing we could do to stop it. But it didn't feel right to wash our hands of it and just let it happen."

Andal dipped his head in acquiescence. "Didn't want to lose you."

"Didn't want to sit by and watch."

The fire had burned low, so it was hard to see exactly. Azra thought she saw Andal's face set. "You're right. But how am I supposed to keep you this side of foolhardy if you won't listen when I say no?"

"It'll be a balance," Tevis said, "there has to be trust."

* * *

_He reached out to adjust her blindfold. "Can I trust you?"_

_"Of course," Azra said, meaning it more deeply than she could express in two words._

_"Well then, there's that." ___

* * *

__"We got this," Azra said, newly confident._ _

__Andal studied her face. He must have liked what he saw there, because he nodded and made to sit. "Alaia Ruse is still running rescue ops on Luna."_ _

__Azra's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Still?" It'd been half a week._ _

__"Guardians scattered far. They only managed to get comms set up through the Hive interference yesterday."_ _

__"What are you saying?" Shiro settled into a crouch, narrow-eyed._ _

__"I'm saying… maybe you're right. Maybe we should go help. They could use some hands to lead everyone back. Some of those Titans can be… directionally challenged._ _

__"But," Andal held up a finger, eyes sharp. "If I say we leave, we leave. I will stop erring on the side of caution if I can trust that you won't take it any further than the line I draw. Got it?"_ _

__"Got it," Shiro and Tevis said in chorus._ _

__Azra took the chunk of moonstone from her pocket, feeling its unworn edges. They'd been cracked billions of years ago, but with no wind or rain they remained as sharp as steel. She placed the rock between a vaguely luminescent stone an a glittering piece of obsidian, then nodded firmly. "Deal."_ _


	16. Forgive Me

You try your hardest to leave the past alone  
This crooked posture is all you've ever known  
It is the consequence of living in between  
The weight of family and the pull of gravity

Heirloom – Sleeping at Last

* * *

Two weeks wasn't too big of a deal. Cayde needed time to cool off. From the story, things got even more heated after Azra had left. Two weeks didn't throw up red flags.

Three weeks, people started getting worried. But Cayde was competent. He could handle himself, so they all told themselves.

At a month, Andal started organizing search parties. Azra was not very good at tracking, but she tried. She chased more reports and leads than she could count, but always came up empty-handed. She hacked into his caches and left notes. Left a beacon at the old campsite when the cooling weather forced them to move. Hung around his favorite places. Yet still, nothing.

Even Shiro, for all his expertise, never got close. Any trails Cayde left had long gone cold.

So one month turned to two, turned to three, and still no sign. The silence at camp became more and more grim. They all stubbornly refused to talk about funeral arrangements.

In the end, they didn't find Cayde. He found them.

* * *

January 09, 2881; Crew's Camp, Koh Thmei, Earth

It was an average night, weather-wise. Average temperature, intermittent cloud cover. Perhaps a bit windy. Azra pulled her cloak close around her and stared into the guttering flames of the fire.

 _You really should sleep_ , Spark insisted. He was right. Exhaustion dragged on Azra's body. She'd run herself quite ragged.

 _In a little bit_ , she replied. Just a few more breaths of the night air. Just a few more heartbeats of stillness. She was on her own tonight, and the quiet was a blessing after so much movement.

Leaves rustled, separate from the blowing of the wind. Azra wouldn't have picked it up if her senses hadn't been sharpened to a razor's edge by thirteen years in the wilds. But they had, so before she'd quite realized that there was something in the bushes, she'd drawn her sidearm and aimed down her sights at the intruder.

Recognition stayed her hand. A scruffy-looking blue Exo pushed aside the branches, eyeing the weapon. The man was dirt-stained and his shoulders were hunched, but it was undeniable. It was him. Cayde. Azra actually dropped her gun in surprise.

"You moved camp," the Gunslinger rasped. He didn't get any further before he was tackled to the ground. Azra deftly pinned his arms under her knees and clapped her palms to his cheeks. The warm metal beneath her hands was much-needed confirmation of his presence. (Nothing ever seemed as real at night.)

"What. The. Fuck." Azra whispered harshly. She'd gone from surprise to joy to blind rage and back again in the space of a few seconds.

"Hold on there," he began, struggling futilely against her weight.

She felt the butterscotch-whiskey tinge of his light, the smooth plates of his eyebrows, his horn. She looked up and made eye-contact with his Ghost Sundance, of similarly familiar Light and shell. "It's really you."

"'Course it's really me-"

Azra slapped him, hard. It only served to hurt her hand. She swore and shifted her weight. Cayde took the opportunity to slip free. Azra stumbled back to her feet, massaging her sore palm.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea—" Cayde muttered. He was interrupted when Azra threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

"I thought you were dead," she murmured.

He dismissed it with Cayde-typical bravado. "Come on, me? It'd take more than a few months solo to bring this Hunter down."

She just squeezed tighter. "It could happen to anyone." If Cayde wasn't mistaken, there was a dampness spreading on his scarf. He relented and hugged her back.

She pulled away and gripped his shoulders tight enough to hurt, sudden anger sparking in her eyes. "Where the hell were you?"

Cayde shrugged. "Around."

"For three fucking months?"

It seemed she might start shaking him soon. "Well, the last three weeks were me captured in a House Winter nest, but the rest of it, I was fine."

"Traveler above, Cayde! You couldn't… call, even?"

"I needed time to think." Azra opened her mouth to argue, so Cayde put his hands up to quiet her. "No, lemme talk. I know it's been too long. But this… what I did, what we did, deserves serious thought. Just coming back and making up wouldn't fix any of this. There's… issues that have been a long time brewing."

"So," Azra said, finally letting go of him, "You've had time. Three months of it. You're back. What have you decided?"

Cayde cleared his throat, shifted his feet, ducked his head. "…I can't do this on my own. Anymore I don't want to. I don't want to lead the Crew. Leave that to Andal. He'd do a better job than I ever could. I know he's just… trying to look out for us. Haven't made it too easy on him."

Azra's eyes softened a fraction. She scrubbed a bit of ether off of his cheek plate. Then that spark of anger returned and she slapped him again. "I am still _pissed to hell_ that you didn't even leave a note. If this group wasn't so bitter stubborn..."

Mention of the Crew seemed to spark Cayde's memory. His eyes flitted back and forth across the camp, taking in the blankets, the rain tarps, the neat piles of belongings and ammo blocks. "Where are the others. Is everything…"

"Mare Cognitum," Azra answered.

"What?"

"Everyone's fine, physically." She shifted her weight and crossed her arms. "They're off scouting some Hive tunnels in Mare Cognitum."

Cayde was incredulous. "There's an interdiction on the Moon."

"And also a desperate need for intel on the Hive."

"What… happened?" Going against the interdiction wasn't a move Andal would have made three months ago.

Azra flopped down on her log. Cayde followed, sitting close. "You left," she explained. "We… had a talk. You were right." Azra fiddled with her gloves. "Andal was also right. By the time we started searching for you, the trail was cold as ice. Couldn't find you, couldn't confirm you were still alive."

"Damn," Cayde said.

"No, you don't get to be sympathetic. You… fuck, if we hadn't noticed your caches changing locations, we'd have assumed the worst."

"I have trouble believing that."

"It's on everyone's mind. You don't know the news?" Cayde shook his head. Azra's face drew into a pained expression. "Alaia Ruse is dead. Got done in running rescue ops on Luna."

"No," the Exo breathed, more surprised than anything else. "Who's Vanguard, then?"

"Kauko Swiftriver. He's… not Alaia. You also saw Wei Ning go down. Eriana supposedly isn't handling it well. Casualty count's in the hundreds. They're calling it The Great Disaster back in the City."

Cayde's eye-plates furrowed. "Wait, so if the other three are off on Luna, why are you here?"

She shrugged. "Dead End Cure needed an extra hand. Job was a couple days long, so I told them not to wait up. They took Shiro's boy Lush and Mot Balek along instead."

"So why did you come back here all alone? Surely D.E.C. could put you up for a night?"

"Just in case."

"In case…?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "You're gonna make me say it out loud that we like to leave one person in camp in case you come back?"

He directed his gaze back to the fire, obviously uncomfortable. "You're not gonna make this easy for me, are you?"

Azra chuckled, threading an arm around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. "You have no idea."

* * *

Official Crew Channel Log, 2881-01-09

AJ: Hey, come back to the camp when you can, I've got news.

AJ: Stay safe.

* * *

January 11, 2881; Crew's Camp, Koh Thmei, Earth

First were the surprised exclamations, then joy. Then the arguments came, the sore pain of abandonment, the sharp fires of righteous anger.

Azra watched the conversation swell and lull. She watched Shiro's fear dissipate like fog under the morning sun. She watched Tevis' bitterness sweeten until he couldn't help but guffaw at Cayde's bad jokes. She watched Andal sag in relief as he confirmed to himself, over and over, that his brother was still alive. That he was back.

But mostly, she watched Cayde. One would think that three months would be nothing to someone more than a hundred years old, but Cayde had changed. Here he was, a little more cautious, a little less flippant. He watched Andal's face with a wariness that unsettled Azra. He seemed to fit right back in to his place, but there were callouses and sharp edges where trust used to be.

They needed a nice big fight, Azra thought. One of the ones that was absolute chaos, a blur of gunfire and shouts and crowing laughter floating like burned ether across the battlefield. There was too much tension in the air.

There came a break in the conversation. They'd talked in circles for almost an hour, branching off into side topics and looping back to the same place every time. It seemed they'd run out of words now. The silence seemed brittle as the eggshells they'd been walking on this entire time, but also impossibly heavy.

Andal opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He looked so helpless, searching Cayde's hunched form for some kind of sign.

Cayde turned a knife over in his hands. He remained slumped over, but he spoke in a clear voice. "When we stood in that cave and cut each other's throats, when we started all this, we made a promise. You promised you'd lead. I promised to back you up."

"We both broke that," Andal said. He held a hand out, as if to reach across the fire and touch his brother's arm. He was too far. The hand fell back uselessly to his side. "I got too concerned with being safe, I held us back instead of leading us forward."

"I…" from the look on Cayde's face, this was physically paining him. "When that started being an issue, I just went around you. Stopped listening, undermined you. Meant you couldn't trust me."

There were the admissions of guilt, and the air seemed all the clearer for it. Yet nobody spoke.

"So," Spark said, "how do we fix this?"

Several sets of eyes turned to the small Ghost.

Azra backed him up. "Something's broken here. Something's not working. How do we fix it? Will promises do it, if they broke the first time?"

"Would promises be enough for you?" Andal asked.

Azra hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. They'll always be enough. But I'm also gullible."

"… I think we all have a little more perspective now," Tevis said. "It doesn't have to be like last time."

"It was lonely in that Fallen nest," Cayde mumbled. "I'm sorry I stayed away so long. I never wanted to hurt any of you."

Andal leaned another log up against the fire. "I'm sorry we didn't talk about this earlier."

"Can you forgive me?" The Exo asked.

"If you'll forgive me." The Human replied.

They made eye contact, finally, and the tension in the air broke. Andal smiled. Cayde bobbed his head. Relief swept through the campsite like a sigh of wind.

"This doesn't mean I'm going to stop giving you shit over this," Azra warned. She met Cayde's blue optics with a stern face, but couldn't keep the mask up for long. A grin broke through her façade. She was still giddy with the fact that he was _here_. So many ends she'd imagined for him, and none of them were real.

Cayde finally stretched out, propping his feet up by the fire. "Did I tell you guys Azra managed to fall off the edge of a crater at Mare Ibrium?" There was a hint of smug satisfaction in his voice.

Azra threw up her hands in exasperation. "Well excuse me for living!"

Andal turned a mock-serious face to Azra. "I'm getting worried this cliff-jumping thing is getting out of hand. Do we need to take you into rehab?"

Azra stuck her tongue out at him. "I can stop any time I want."

The laughter that followed was too long for what that joke deserved, but Azra smiled anyway.

Everything would be alright.

* * *

February 19, 2885, 12:37; Koulbi, Earth

The leaves shifted in the breeze. Azra kept mental tabs on the sound even as she focused on the footprint before her. It was big, and fresh. And very conveniently, it was missing the right hind claw. Bingo.

"Wait," Spark said, "I'm getting a ping from a nearby Guardian."

Azra measured the footprint against the length of her hand. "If it's not a distress call, I've got other things to do."

"It _is_ a distress call," Spark said.

Azra's head snapped up. "Why didn't you say so?"

"It's low-level urgency."

Her eybrows furrowed. "Who puts out an unurgent distress call?"

"Let's go find out."

* * *

The Exo walked confidently. Why not? He had no reason to fear. The radar was absent of enemy signatures, and he was immortal. It was paradoxical how dying over and over again could make one feel more alive. He carried his tree-trunk club in his hand and imagined himself some great conqueror. The enormous tree was his. The old vehicle wreck was his. The path he walked on was his path. (It was all farce, of course, but it was fun and occupied his mind as he walked.)

He yelped and dropped the club when a voice called out from nowhere. "You a Guardian?" it asked. Redrix spun, optics flicking to the source of the sound.

A woman crouched on top of the broken transport. She almost seemed to lounge in the sunlight. Her frame was whip-thin, coiled like some predatory cat. She wore sleek armor and a long gun of some kind was slung across her back. Her face was shrouded by a hood in white and dark green.

"Um… yes?" Redrix answered. "A-are you?"

The woman pulled back her hood, revealing a short mop of dark hair and sharp gray eyes. Her features were surprisingly kind. "Thought that'd be obvious, but… you look new. What's your name?"

He straightened to attention, clasping his hands in front. "Redrix-3, ma'am."

The woman nudged the drone that floated next to her with an elbow. "Respectful one, calls me ma'am. How come you never call me ma'am?"

The Ghost seemed done with it all. "I've seen you accidentally stab yourself eighty-three times."

"Eighty-three? Really?" The woman looked genuinely surprised.

"I'm counting the knife game."

The woman flapped a hand dismissively. "Most of those were cuts, not stabs."

"What's the difference?"

She turned now to face her Ghost, seemingly forgetting Redrix. "Both sides of the knife gotta go in for a stab. Unless I embedded the tip of the knife in my finger, it counts as a cut."

"Fine." The Ghost (Redrix recognized the similarity with his Ghost) disappeared and reappeared on the other side of her. "I've seen you accidentally stab yourself thirty-seven times."

"Still that many? Huh."

Redrix cleared his throat (or made a sound approximating such). The woman's eyes snapped back to him. He stiffened automatically under her gaze; something about her just screamed _dangerous_. She was so… casual, despite the weapons that bristled out from underneath her cloak.

The woman bowed her head in what might have been an apology. "Sorry, that was rude of me." She slid from the crest of the wreckage and landed neatly on the forest floor, hardly making a sound. She took two steps forward to meet him, extending a hand out in front of her. "My name is Azra Jax."

Redrix stared at the hand. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.

The woman laughed lightly. "Lesson one: this," she reached over and grasped his hand, pulling it up between them and squeezing it lightly, "is a handshake. It's what you do when you meet someone."

She let go of his hand. He flexed it into a fist and let it relax, watching the mechanisms of his fingers.

"How long have you been up?" She asked.

"Nine days," Ghost answered.

The woman nodded. "Shiny as new silver. Welcome to the universe. It's a confusing place. I assume you're heading to the Last City?"

"Why would you assume that?" Redrix-3 blurted out.

The woman (Azra, he reminded himself) laughed again. "Oh, I like you. The Last City's the safest place around right now. Usually new Guardians at least drop by before they go off galivanting about the system. Though there are other places you could go, I suppose. Wonder if the Sunbreakers take week-old recruits."

"The who?" Redrix asked.

Azra flapped a hand. "Ah, nothing. But you. Where are you headed?"

"… The Last City," Redrix admitted. The woman snorted.

"Well, you've got a heckuva swim in front of you, unless you get yourself to a spaceport or the Cosmodrome. If you're trying for Old Accra, you're in for some trouble. Place is an absolute hotbed of Fallen activity right now. You know the Fallen, yeah?"

Redrix-3 nodded. "One killed me yesterday."

"Lesson two, newbie: kill 'em first. You got anything other than that poor sap to do the job?"

Redrix-3 blinked in confusion.

"Come on, the tree trunk? I thought that pun was funny. Wasn't that pun funny?" she asked her Ghost.

"It was not," the Ghost replied.

She grumbled and swatted at her mechanical companion. "Ungrateful paperweight. I spend all this time carting you around the system, and you don't even laugh at my jokes."

"I'll laugh at your jokes when you start making some," the Ghost said lightly.

Despite the jabs, Azra was smiling. "This humorless hunk of metal is named Spark," she told Redrix, who'd watched the exchange with wide optics.

"Just call me Ghost for now," Redrix's Ghost said.

"Cool. Lemme know if it that changes. Now," Azra straightened her cloak and re-addressed the Kinderguardian. "You're going to have a lot of trouble fighting your way into old Accra with just a club."

"I've got my fists, too," Redrix replied.

She guffawed. "Spoken like a true Titan. Shaxx'll have fun with you. Listen. I'm on a hunt right now. Something about a big nasty Fallen doing nasty Fallen things. I can't just bail on it, but if you stick around, I'll give you a free lift back to the City. I can guarantee it'll be much more fun than the month-long walk you've got ahead of you. Whaddya say?"

Redrix looked to his Ghost for guidance. "That sounds wonderful," the small machine said. Redrix nodded back at the woman.

Azra frowned and tapped her chin. "We can hardly have you running around hunting Fallen with a tree-club."

"Well, maybe you could loan me-"

"A-hah!" The Hunter interrupted. "I've got just the thing."

* * *

Awful Revolver

_"It's just undeniably terrible. It's a cruel person would give it to a Kinderguardian as a gift." (List of cruel people: Lord Fellwinter, Lady Jolder, Tallulah Fairwind, Micah-10, Andal Brask, Azra Jax)._

* * *

February 19, 2885, 13:15; Koulbi, Earth

Hunting something apparently involved a lot of walking around, being told to walk quieter, trying to walk quieter, and failing.

Redrix suggested Azra just leave him behind, but she said that would give him "a lifetime of abandonment issues, I've got experience", so he plodded through the leaf litter while Azra tried not to wince at every broken twig or snapped branch. Redrix wasn't completely convinced they weren't wandering in circles, but the Hunter was so tense he didn't dare voice his doubts.

She finally stopped to kneel and examine the ground. Redrix looked over her shoulder. To him, it was just another patch of worn earth, but she was studying it like it was some ancient manuscript. "Do me a favor, would you Redrix?" Azra asked, low and calm.

"Yeeeeess?" Redrix answered.

"Do your best to act chill? Calm, not surprised or upset? Like I'm telling you about… oh, let's say the weather on Titan. Pretend I'm telling you about the weather on Titan."

"There's weather on Titan?"

Azra stood and dusted off her hands. "No good weather, at least. Here's the news: we're completely surrounded and they're gonna ambush us soon. Stay calm."

Redrix did his best to rein in the immediate fear that beset him. "Surrounded by 'big nasty Fallen'?"

"Yup. Which is good."

"Why is that good?" Redrix shifted his grip on the revolver, trying very hard not to search the woods around them for silhouettes.

"Well, we were never going to catch them with your incredible stealth skills, so it's nice they came to us."

"Dear Gods we're going to die," Redrix managed to say in a monotone.

Azra sighed and peered up at the sky. "Take a chill pill, we're going to be fine."

"What's a chill pill?"

She snorted and shook her head. "Never mind. Your job is to kill as many of the little guys as you can. Dregs, Vandals, Shanks. I'll handle the Baron. That's lesson number… seven, now? Kill all the little guys first, makes it easier to focus the real target. Less things shooting at you."

"I-I'll kill as many as I can."

She frowned. "Seriously, _relax_. Priority number one is not shooting _me_. Now be quiet a moment, I'm trying to map out exactly where the Baron is."

"You can tell?"

"Their shields make this weird hissing noise, shush."

Things seemed to break suddenly. One moment, he was watching the Hunter before him scowl at the ground. The next she swung the rifle on its strap, quick as thought, and fired off a shot into the trees. The woods came alive with shrieks and running footsteps.

Redrix immediately lost track of Azra in the chaos. He shot the gun dry and reloaded it with uncertain motions, again and again. Too often his shots went wide and he had to end the opponents with his fists instead. Mild disgust rose in him at the viscera on his hands, but never for too long. There was always something else to distract him: another enemy, gunfire in the woods, the Hunter's occasional shouts.

Apparently, he was too distracted, because he didn't even hear the Baron come up behind him. Things broke in that odd way again: he aimed down sights at a Shank, then suddenly he was on his back with a weight bearing down on him.

The alien was leaking blood and Ether from a dozen places, but it was still very much alive. It screamed into his face and tore at his throat. A detached part of him noted the spittle spots on his optics. The rest of him was occupied with the searing pain and his sudden inability to draw breath.

"Redrix!" Someone yelled. His brain fumbled for a second, then came up with the name. Azra Jax. That's right. There was an odd whir-snap sound unlike anything Redrix had ever heard. Then with a crash like muted thunder, something barreled into the Fallen, knocking it off of him.

Redrix struggled to his knees. The gashes in his throat were weeping oil and hydraulic fluid. The Fallen was back on its feet, but giving ground rapidly before… was that Azra? She seemed another creature entirely than the one he'd met a few hours ago. She moved fluidly, ducking the alien's swipes with almost lazy grace. Electricity crackled about her in a shroud. She held a long pole of sorts in her hand that shone like Zeus' lighting itself. (Who was Zeus, again?)

There was a sound that was half snap, half electronic screech, and the alien stumbled. Azra lunged forward, jabbing the creature hard in the chest. It shrieked. Azra shifted her grip and swung a massive roundhouse blow to the back of its head. Spiderwebs of electricity danced out along its body into the earth. It fell bonelessly to the ground, still sparking.

Redrix realized he was shaking. Ghost healed his wounds, but his throat still ached. He hunched over on his knees, trying not to vomit (or whatever the Exo equivalent was. Redrix was in no hurry to find out.)

"You good over there?" Azra asked. She was panting. The pole vanished with a flash, and suddenly everything was normal again. No lightning, no Fallen screams.

Azra grabbed his hand to pull him to his feet. Her grip sent a jolt of electricity into his arm, making it spasm. Overload warnings popped up in his head.

"Sorry. That was a bit messy," she apologized. Redrix swallowed and nodded. Azra's face grew concerned. "Seriously. You look shaken."

"I'll be fine," Redrix finally managed to say. It came out as an electronic rasp. Ghost hit him with another sweep of Light and the nausea faded. He straightened.

Azra's eyes looked him up and down, then she nodded. "Cool. I gotta send a message, then we can get out of here."

"You can have your gun back," Redrix offered. Frankly, the club would have been more effective.

"Nah, you keep it. That gun's got a storied history. You're owner number… seven?" She looked to her Ghost for confirmation. It bobbed in midair. "Anyway, hand it off to the next rube who's dumb enough to accept it. In the meantime, it's pretty good luck."

"Getting my throat torn out by a Fallen is good luck?"

"Hey, you're alive, aren't you?" She riposted. "Now shush. Open a line to Kauko Swiftiver." That last part was directed to her Ghost, who clicked in response.

Redrix only heard one side of the conversation.

"Kauko, that was not a one-person job."

…

"She almost got away."

…

"What? Yeah, she's dead now, but…"

…

"Yeah, but I'm _me_."

…

"… Fine."

…

"Smug bastard."

Finally the Hunter turned back towards the young Titan.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Redrix blurted.

"What, calling Kauko a smug bastard? Not sure that's a skill that needs instruction. It's easy. Talk to him for five minutes, you'll see."

"No, the electricity thing. Can you teach me that?"

A wry smile tugged at her lips. She shook her head. "Afraid not. Even if you were a Hunter, it's… not something other people can do. I'm weird."

"I'll believe that," Redrix replied. Azra scowled at him.

"You want a ride to the Last City or not?"

"Uh, yes please. Ma'am?"

She turned and grumbled, holding out a hand for her Ghost. Two sleek-looking vehicles appeared out of thin air.

"We have to ride a bit to a safer landing zone. I'm not getting my ship taken down by Fallen artillery. Climb on. And I swear on the Traveler if you crash my Sparrow, I'm leaving you on this godsforsaken continent."

* * *

Records of the Vanguard, DB-2885-02-19 47

AJ: Zavala, my man. Meet Redrix-3. Found him wandering around a few hundred klicks north of Old Accra. Pretty obvious he's a Titan, so… yeah.

Z: Indeed. Welcome to the tower, Redrix. I hope you find the City a welcoming place.

R3: Yes, sir.

AJ: He's real polite. I'm sure he'll get along with y'all like a house on fire.

R3: What?

AJ: Just don't mention vuvuzelas. Mr. Vanguard here is touchy.

Z: *sigh*

R3: What?

Z: Don't you have your own Vanguard to speak with, Mz. Jax?

AJ: Right. I gotta give him a good chewing out.

AJ: Stay frosty, Redrix, and final lesson: find your people, stick with 'em. Nothing's too tough to tackle when you got friends at your back.

AJ: Also do your best to never piss off Shaxx.

Z: I have important things to get to, Mz. Jax.

AJ: Right, right.

* * *

Records of the Vanguard, DB-2885-02-19 50

AJ: I had a bounty on my head?

KS: Not anymore. You just killed the guy that posted it.

AJ: You should have told me.

KS: I did, right now.

AJ: You can be more than a bit of an ass sometimes, Kauko.

KS: Hey, you're five thousand glimmer richer, and now Barons are going to think twice before putting Ether on your head.

AJ: I would've liked to know.

KS: Would you have done things differently?

AJ: I woulda brought backup.

KS: You didn't need it.

AJ: I could have needed it.

KS: But you didn't, and you just proved that to the rest of the Fallen. Showing up with your whole pack in tow would have looked cowardly.

AJ: I hate you so much.

KS: Only because I'm right.

AJ: Especially because you're right.


	17. Bad Feelings

I can still hear your feet as you ran from the house  
Knowing you won't be back doesn't mean that I will stop waiting  
You told me then, "hold me down, hold me up to the fire  
But don't you dare hold me back"

Radical Face – A Pound of Flesh

* * *

They had been half a world away when it happened, on a long haul. Tevis was off on a strike with a pair of Praxic Sunsingers. Shiro and Cayde were on the in-and-outer in Old France. That left Azra and Andal to raid the Fallen stash at Anchorage and take everything not nailed down (and a few things that were).

They worked well together. They always had. The two of them hit the nice balance, with enough patience to do the mission the right way and enough firepower to burn the house down if things  _didn't_  go right.

The grab required a bit more stealth than usual, which is why it was just them two. Three days, two nights, no long-range comms, no jumpships (though they did manage to get a Fallen Skiff out of there in good enough condition to limp back to the Tower).

The radio silence meant they didn't hear the news.

* * *

December 22, 2889; the Last City, Earth

Two hunters, one in black, one in dark green, walked through the Tower courtyard. From the confidence in their stride and the lights in their eyes, they'd just come back victorious from a hell of a run. The pair looked like they had some good stories to tell.

Their strides faltered when a voice echoed out over the green. "Andal! Azra!" The pair turned, surprised to see Shiro-4 running towards them, cloak askew.

"We should make the report before we get caught up-" Andal began. Shiro grabbed their arms.

"It's  _important_. Nian Ruo is dead. Lush's lost his Ghost."

Azra didn't miss the tears in Shiro's cloak or the dents in his armor. Even more, Shiro was urgent in a way he rarely was, and worried, and  _scared_. "You're looking pretty banged-up yourself," she commented. The metal on Shiro's finger joints was scratched to hell. A few of his holsters sat empty. Sudden fear gripped her. "Is everything…?"

Shiro's Ghost, Pace, appeared, much to the pair's relief. "I'm okay," she said, "but this is important."

Andal and Azra made eye contact. Andal nodded. "I'll write the report and send it later. What's happened?"

"Follow me," Shiro said.

* * *

The energy in the deli was more tense than usual. Guardians (Hunters mostly, with a few Warlocks and Titans thrown in) clustered around one of the tables. The trio shoved their way through.

In the center, Cayde sat, looking even worse for wear than Shiro was. Lush sat next to him. The young Hunter's face was clouded with deep, existential panic. Warlocks or Titans could live many years without their Ghosts, but Hunters rarely did. Who'd want to spend their days cooped up in the City doing paperwork?

Shiro settled down next to his protégé. Cayde scooted on the bench to make room for Andal. Azra took a look at Lush's scared face and turned to the curious crowd. "Could we get some privacy, please?"

When the people seemed reluctant to leave, Azra glared and let sparks gather between her fingers. She wasn't famous for her temper, but things like that were easy to forget when the air hummed and crackled like an Arc storm. It did the job to disperse the onlookers.

"Listen," Cayde said, "I know we've all laughed it off, but Taniks is real."

Andal snorted. "I don't doubt that he's real, just-"

"Everything about him is true," the Exo barreled on. "He offed Nian Ruo right in front of us. Big boy, and crazy mean. We lost our entire haul just trying to get him off our tail. He took out Lush's Ghost. Straight returned to the light." The younger man winced. Shiro put a hand on his shoulder.

The Bladedancer went on. "I looked through all the intel the Vanguard has gathered. We- all five of us- have  _massive_  bounties on our heads. I'm talking tens of thousands of Glimmer. Per person. Seems Taniks really has taken up the job."

"He'll regret that," Andal decided. "If he's real, then he can be killed."

Azra still stood at the open end of the table. How quickly this day had gone from good to bad. She'd  _known_  things had been too simple lately.

"We should move camp," she announced. "At least more often than what we've been doing. If this Taniks fellow is after us, there's only so long before he tracks down home base."

"Should we even keep camp, if there's that big of a target on our backs?" Tevis asked.

Andal put his hands flat on the table. "Let's give it a little time before we make any decisions. Emotions are high."

"I think I need a drink," Azra agreed.

* * *

Years, eternities later, Azra would remember little from that night. The important bits stuck in her mind, picked at like old scabs until they scarred deep in her memory. The finer details were lost in a haze of exhaustion and worry and alcohol.

But she did remember this shred of conversation, overheard as she picked at the mint leaves from her drink:

"You  _scared_ , Cayde?"

"I'm jealous I physically can't get as trashed as you are right now."

"C'mon, it's jus' a little bet."

"Fine. Hundred glimmer Falstaff won't even touch it."

"Deal."

Glasses clinked. Someone sighed.

"I got a better one," Andal said.

"A better what?"

"Taniks… the guy's gonna die. I'ma do it first."

"You're betting that you'll kill Taniks before I do? You're on."

Andal seemed to gather himself up. The words were much less slurred when he spoke again. "We do it separate. Whoever doesn't get him takes the Vanguard gig."

There was a beat of silence, then Cayde spoke, still casual. "Oh, okay, so this is a Dare with a  _capital_  D."

"It's been too long. They're talking about elections."

"Traveler forbid Marcus Ren gets stuck in the chair…"

"You taking it or what?"

There was a pause.

"Yeah. Okay. Kill Taniks, or take up the Vanguard spot."

"And no 'ssistance from the Crew. S'not fair to divide them."

"No help. Deal."

"Deal."

Azra looked up to see them clasping hands.

* * *

January 11, 2890; beneath Old Chicago, Earth

The stink of ether and Darkness clogged her nose. She choked as the Baron yanked her backwards. She clawed to release the fastening of her cape so she could get clear.

But this cape didn't have buttons or clasps. The Baron twisted the fabric for leverage… and shoved a shock blade through her lower abdomen.  _Oh right,_  Azra thought faintly.  _Four arms_. Stars danced across her vision.

And she saw Cayde lowering his gun at her. She opened her mouth to tell him  _no, it's too Dark_ , that she'd take the heal on this one, as painful as it was. A rez would be too difficult. But her legs gave out. A shot echoed in the cave.

Azra hit the ground. She was stunned to find that she wasn't dead. Spark was already there, patching her back together. Azra tried not to cough as her intestines were returned to their natural state. The Baron lay smoking a few feet away with a neat hole in its head.

Azra spat out a gob of blood and shook her head at Cayde. "I shouldn't be here," she rasped.

"You want me hunting Taniks alone?" The Gunslinger asked, reloading his hand cannon with a twirl.

Azra's lips pressed into a thin line. "You shouldn't have made this Dare in the first place."

"Well, the Dare's made and done. Nothing you or I can do about it now."

Azra grunted in recognition and re-holstered her sidearm. True to her word, she hadn't fired a single shot yet. It had nearly gotten her killed twice, but she'd promised. "How about one of those complicated meta-bullshit deals Andal always likes?" She suggested.

"You don't mess with the Dare, Azra." Cayde started down the smuggler's tunnel again.

Azra followed. "Not trying to."

She fell silent as they rounded a corner, only speaking up when she was sure the coast was clear. "Here's the proposition. No touching this Dare at all, just what happens after. You lose this deal, you got five years to take and win another Dare. If'n you  _don't_ , I get all your turns to call where camp is. Forever. If you  _do,_  you get mine."

Cayde stopped to set his loose Ghost on a terminal. "You'd bet  _all_  your campsites on me to get me out of there quicker?"

She looked down the tunnel. Her eyes were hard. "Forever's never as long as you think it'll be. I can win 'em back later. I just got a real bad feeling about all of this."

"Bet," Cayde agreed.

Spark spoke over the comms. "Witnessed and noted."

* * *

They'd managed upon Taniks unawares. (Well, Cayde had; he'd made Azra leave the shooting and the tracking to him. She was just along for the ride.) The Fallen was busy sorting through communications, focused on his screen. It gave the two Hunters a little time to observe.

"He's bigger than I thought he'd be," Azra said, eying the figure with some skepticism. She'd expect the houseless outcasts to be Ether-starved, but it looked like this one was getting three square meals a day and then some.

Cayde tugged at her cape. "Hush, get down. You can't do anything, alright? It'd mess up the Dare something awful if you got the kill. Any kills."

"Then why am I here, Cayde?"

"You're the witness. And insurance."

Azra thought briefly about going for the kill anyways. She already had sights on Taniks. She could pull the Bow to her hand so easily, have at him with the Gjallarhorn…

She wasn't above messing up their Dare. Andal and Cayde had both tied themselves and their honor to it, but  _she_  had no stakes. It would be selfish, and it would put a mark on her reputation, but not a big one. The only thing that stayed her hand was the fact that killing Taniks now wouldn't actually fix anything. If she'd found him alone, maybe, but with Cayde here? Interfering would just get him tied to the gig for breaking his end of the bargain. (Besides, he'd never forgive her.)

Heck, certain interpretations would have both Andal  _and_  Cayde fill the singular Vanguard spot. "Kill Taniks or take the job" was some seriously vague wording for how important the outcome was.

Her Exo companion crept through cover to circle Taniks' flank. Azra stayed put, observing. She couldn't quite place why dread was boiling in the pit of her stomach. She had every right to be upset, sure, with two of her pack bartering away their freedom for pride and bragging rights. But it was something  _more_  than that. Watching the beige-and-red tail of Cayde's cloak disappear behind the crates, she was struck with the feeling of standing on a precipice-

* * *

_This was all thought even as her hands moved, emptying clip after clip of her sidearm into the Vex. Messy pools of Radiolaria covered the floor, burning her feet where she stood. She hopped backwards, dancing at the edge, impossibly, insanely aware of the drop-off behind her._

* * *

Azra shook her head. She knew the moment that bullet left Cayde's gun they'd be over the cliffside, for better or worse. And some part of her was screaming, in absolute confidence, that it would be for the worse.

But the choice was out of her hands. All she could do was sit and watch.

Cayde shouted a challenge. Taniks turned. With a clap, orange light bloomed, casting harsh shadows on the floor.

* * *

January 13, 2890; the Last City, Earth

There was a party. Azra hated parties. And Osiris was there. Azra hated Osiris. Moreover, Andal was Vanguard now, officially. She hated that most of all.

Still, she was there, because  _of course_  she was there. It wasn't just a party, it was Andal's party. His last hurrah before taking up his seat with the bigwigs. She couldn't miss it even if she wanted to.

The event was a strange one, as far as Azra was concerned. Snacks and fingerfoods littered the tables. The drinks were only mildly alcoholic. The music as upbeat but quiet, and people mostly lounged around talking. Hunter games had been banned, meaning the night was much more boring and much less profitable than it could have been.

Andal stood between Osiris and Zavala, looking unusual with his freshly pressed cape and shiny-clean armor. The two old Vanguard started out the evening serious and formal, but Andal, ever the social butterfly, had them smiling now. Azra glared at him from across the room. (Even she had to admit, though, that this was the better of the two outcomes.)

Cayde sauntered up with a plate absolutely piled with little sandwiches. He offered one to Azra. She shook her head mutely.

Cayde at least had the manners to swallow before speaking. "Hey, it's a party! What's got you so down?"

Azra frowned, sizing up the new Vanguard trio in front of her. "My bad feelings about this are only getting worse."

He elbowed her in the ribs. "Hey, look at this as an opportunity. We got a guy on the inside now. We could make a nice little fortune off of this. Prime intel, the best gigs. Andal's not above nepotism."

"And in a few years he'll Dare some other poor sap to take his place, and we'll be back on the road again," Azra said. Her voice was all disbelief. Her eyes were bitter.

"It'll be fine. You'll see," Cayde said. He draped an arm over Azra's shoulders. She took it in silence.

* * *

July 23, 2892

_You drift in the Black, weightless. You don't know if the feeling means you're deep underwater or if you're in freefall. You try to right yourself, only to realize you have no limbs to wave and no self to right._

_You wonder if this means you can actually drown._

_You wonder if this means that you already have._

_The Black is deep, and hard, and cloying. It is endless. There is no surface, no up, no down. Your inner ear has no idea what to make of this situation. Is there no gravity, or are you already obeying its pull?_

_Perhaps you are falling, about to hit the ground, but the moment stretches out asymptotically, closer and closer to the point of impact, impossibly, infinitely close, yet never quite touching._

_Perhaps you are drifting in an infinite ocean, or the depths of a black hole, or an eternal abyss._

_You pray the Black does not notice you. You pray hard._

* * *

March 16, 2893; the Last City, Earth

The last day they were all together, Azra rolled out of the bed an hour after sunrise. It was easy to oversleep in the City, with its high walls and shuttered windows. She was the first one up. Shiro had missed the morning. In his defense, he had caught the sunrise on Venus not thirteen hours ago.

Azra set about heating some water in the kettle Andal kept in his room and rummaging through his drawers for the tea she liked. The air inside was almost unpleasantly warm. Five Guardians produced a lot of heat, even asleep.

Shiro-4 awoke with the sound of boiling water. Cayde apparently had heard it too, but elected in his semiconsciousness to shun waking for a few more minutes' sleep, snuggling closer to his fellow Exo to make up for Azra's lost heat at his back. This left an exasperated Shiro trapped between Cayde's insistent clinginess and Tevis' unconscious sprawling. He stared at Azra with pleading optics.

She smiled at him and threw open the windows, letting in a gust of frigid air along with the sunlight. It was mid fall, and in the mountains that meant it regularly reached below freezing at night.

The sudden drop in temperature and the light roused Andal. In his struggles to extricate himself from the corner, Shiro managed to slip his prison as well. That left the (almost stubbornly) unconcious Cayde with only one source of warmth. Tevis was a notoriously sound sleeper.

The three Hunters smiled over their cups of tea at the pair. Spark took a picture. Their pack was rowdy, almost combative at times. Their lives were whirlwind and full of danger and excitement (or they used to be, in Andal's case). These moments of peace were nice.

Shiro left and returned fifteen minutes later with pastries and fresh coffee. The smell finally tempted the other two from bed. Cayde perked up easily enough, but Tevis sat staring befuddled at his drink for a few minutes before he would answer questions with anything more than monosyllabic grunts. His hair stuck up one side.

It was rare that they were all together. Andal's Vanguarding kept him in the City, and between running ops and general exploring, there weren't that many occasions when everyone was in town. Still, the four free Hunters seemed to gravitate more towards the settlement now than they had before the Dare. Azra had spent more time in the City in the past four years than she had in the twenty previously. There was finally someone there worth visiting, she'd joked.

But that's what they did now. They  _visited_  Andal. They ran crazy missions and pushed the edges of maps, then they dropped by to tell stories and visit. Andal was left behind. He seemed okay with that. The knowledge was a subtle pain in her heart, a bitter twist in her tea.

Not even Andal could keep her in the city for twenty-four hours straight, though. The room was stuffy, even with the windows open. The hum of human chatter and machinery eventually started to put her on edge.

It was Andal's day off, so their breakfast wore on almost until lunch. With Cayde leaving for his reef mission soon and Azra and Shiro's plans for tracking down the Kell of Kings (which could take weeks to months), who knew when they'd all get a chance to argue about hand canons vs sidearms again?

Never. It turned out to be never.

Azra didn't know this, of course, when she was the first one to leave. She just knew she was getting jumpy and the daylight in the Appalachian Dead Zone was a-wasting. So she said her farewells and made for the showers.

There would be days after, of course. There would be almost two weeks until she entered the Vault of Glass. It wasn't the last time she saw any of them face-to-face. But it was the last time all five of them stood in a room together. The last time Andal's pack stood at full strength.

But that was the risk, wasn't it? Every time you stepped out the door, it might be your last. Looking back in years and eternities to come, Azra would find precious few regrets in those days.


	18. Cut Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of this file is corrupted beyond recognition, but a few parts appear to be in code. I believe it is a set of an extremely old and common cipher, if you want to take a stab (hee) at working it out. I'll append my decryptions to the end of this chapter when the next one is posted.

I remember black skies  
The lightning all around me  
I remember each flash  
As time began to blur  
Like a startling sign  
That fate had finally found me  
And your voice was all I heard  
That I get what I deserve

New Divide – Linkin Park

* * *

Records of the Vanguard, BR-2893-03-21 13

AB: So, how d'you feel about the Vault of Glass?

AJ: I swear sometimes I have no idea what you're saying. Are you asking my opinion on the existence of a Vex fortress?

AB: Kabr is running a scouting mission on the Vault. Needs a sixth fourth.

AJ: Who else is on this?

AB: ~~ERR~~ , ~~ERR~~ , Praedyth, and Pahanin.

AJ: Sounds like quite the crew there.

AB: So, you in? Pahanin's probably better off rearguard, so you'd be forward.

AJ: How deep is this going?

AB: I don't know, Kabr just asked for a recommendation.

AJ: I do say, this is a tantalizing offer. I'll talk to him.

AB: Coolio.

* * *

March 28, 2893; Waking Ruins, Venus

It was a sunny day on Venus, an absolute rarity. It made the world, usually cast in muted cloud-light, seem slightly off. Everything was a bit more vivid, a bit harsher than it usually was. The air was eerily still, adding to the illusion that something unquantifiable about the world had shifted.

They gathered in a clearing not far from the Waking Ruins. (Azra had suggested the place. She'd traveled Venus more than Pahanin, even.) She was fashionably late, but not irresponsibly so. Kabr, Pahanin, A●i₻◌ and Praedyth were already there. ~~There was one~~

There wasn't anyone left to wait for, but they waited. Kabr wordlessly paced the space, kicking bones into the trees. Azra got the feeling there was something there from the looks Praedyth shot the Titan, but she decided it wasn't her place to ask. She sidled up to her fellow Hunter instead, eager to break the silence. "Pahanin, my man. How's the book coming?" she asked.

Pahanin clasped her proffered hand, firm and warm. "The book comes!" he responded enthusiastically. Azra made a face [opu wjtjcmf cfijoe zpvs ifmnfu, cvu if dbo sfbe Mjhiu cfuufs uibo zpv dpvme]1. Pahanin shrugged. "Maybe not my best line," he admitted.

~~The last~~

Nobody arrived, so they started walking as a group. Pahanin stayed up front with Azra. Neither of them was dumb enough to be fearless about the coming raid, but banter was a good distraction. [Lwuv, vwtp ctqwpf. Rngcug.]2.

"Good to see our two Hu₪t₻●⌂ a●e ꜡●↨₻₪ỽl꙰," ꚉ●↨₻◌ »»»».

"Oh, we get along  _famously_ ," Pahanin said, nudging Azra in the side.

"If you're the famous one, does that mean I'm the one that gets along?" she asked.

"In꜡a₥҉꙳s, ₥҉●₻ ◌iꙪ₻."

"You're just upset I put you in the book," Pahanin accused.

"Hꚉ◌f o꜡ the Wꚉr◌o○Ꙫs in th₻ ○↨ty ▫҉꙳◌ỽ ◊ꚉ꙰ G◌↨₥₥₻● »»»»»» ERR"

"I'm currently more worried about the Vex, thankyouverymuch. The Warlocks will have to deal." [Sdkdqlq, brx'uh jrlqj wr glh hljkw bhduv iurp qrz wr d Klyh-wzlvwhg pdq. wkh Yha duh qrw brxu eljjhvw frqfhuq.]3.

"We're almost there," Kabyr intoned. "Can we focus?"

"One would think the task which we are about to undertake would inspire more… solemnity," Praedyth commented.

"If you can't joke before entering a Vex time-fortress, when can you?"

"Was that an attempt at a time pun?" Azra asked. She peeked first through the foliage. The Waking Ruins were as she remembered them. [Xlic epqswx wiiq ew xmqipiww ew xli Zeypx- tivletw mxw mrjpyirgi ejjigxw xlmw tpegi ew aipp?]4.

"You've been around Andal too much," Pahanin said dismissively. "You don't know what good humor is."

"Didn't you name your ship  _Ego and Squid_?"

Kabyr cleared his throat, and they all fell silent. Sheepishly, almost, Azra did one last check of the site through her scope. All clear. [Ktw stb.]5.

She stepped out, Kabr a half-pace behind her, the rest a half-pace behind him. The six four of them clustered before the door. Loadouts were already set. Supply lists had been looked over meticulously. There simply wasn't anything left to do but to do it. Azra tried to shake aside the pre-mission jitters, but they clung stubbornly in her chest. [Eua'bk iutlaykj vxksutozout gtj lkgx. Rkgbk. Zaxt gxuatj gtj mu.]6.

Azra put her hands on her hips and contemplated the structure. "Alright, I'm gonna be the one to say it: that door looks like a boob."

Pahanin broke into snickers. ▪꙳⌂□↨₪↨ꚉ₪-11011 grinned as well. The rest apparently were above that brand of humor.

"We have to force the spire to form," Praedyth said. "It is the key that unlocks the door."

"▫₻◌l □h₻n ◌e□'s □ꚉꙪ₻ □h₻ ◊◌ꚉ□₻◊." ERR

Kabr's voice rumbled, twinned on the comms feed and next to her in real life. "Azra and ▪꙳⌂□↨₪↨ꚉ₪-11011 up top. Praedyth and Pahanin to the left. ꚉ●↨₻◌ and I will take the right."

* * *

The humor settled as they fought. Azra had an easy time, almost too easy, alone on her plate. [Aol Cle'z zbynlyf slhclz zjhyz, zapss]7.

What more could there be to say? Vex died, and regrouped, and died some more. The spire formed. The door opened. The fireteam clustered once again before the entrance. Pahanin clapped Azra on the shoulder, startling her a bit. "The point's all yours, sister," [Pm tmba pqa nmiz zctm pqu. Abzivom nwz i Vqopbabitsmz. Xipivqv iteiga eia i asmxbqk ib pmizb.]8

Azra paused before the door, took a deep breath, then with a confidence she didn't really have, stepped through. [Hxd pxmmjvw oxxu. Brg Rljadbnb, cqrb paxdy. Xa oxda. Xa ynaqjyb xwuh Tjka ounf cxx luxbn cx cqn bdw. R bqxdum cqrwt hxd ljbc rwcx cqn bnj, rlh fjcna fnrpqrwp mxfw hxda frwpb.]9

* * *

" _Why am I going first?"_

" _Don't argue, just go!"_

* * *

March 28 (?); Vault of Glass, Venus (?)

Passageways branched left, right, upwards, downwards. Forwards and backwards. Azra dared no more than twenty or thirty meter's distance from the rest of the fireteam. She could have scouted faster alone, but Kabr wanted the group together. Considering where they were, Azra wasn't about to argue.

She scooted back through the gap and shook her head. "It loops around, back to where we've been. Right is our best option."

"؟daeh ruoy ni lla siht peek uoy od woH" ꚉ●↨₻◌ asked.

Azra shrugged. [Yp myebco cro uxygc dro gki. Droi'fo rkn kvv yp dswo dy psqebo sd yed.]10 "Talent? Spark helps me as well." Normally her mental maps were easy to keep. Azra, oddly, was finding herself having to hold them in her head through force of will. It was almost like space, or at least her memory of it, wanted to twist and change. Luckily, hostiles were few and scattered. She had the focus to spare.

The tunnels were mostly rock and bronze, dimly lit by some ambient source. They certainly seemed  _older_  somehow than the average Vex installation, but otherwise they weren't too out of the ordinary. Sometimes the path skirted the edges of steep ravines. Sometimes the walls pressed close, as they did here, so the Guardians' breathing seemed to echo off the walls and suck the oxygen from the air.

Or perhaps that was the Darkness. In all her travels, from Mercury to Demios to Titan and beyond, Azra had found few places as Dark as this. The air stank with it. The stone seemed to drip with it. Here, surrounded by five-

Three other Guardians, breathing was a bit easier. Perhaps that was why Kabr was so reluctant to have her roam too far afield.

Azra turned and lead the way, taking the rightmost path. The others followed: Kabr, ꚉ●↨₻◌, ▪꙳⌂□↨₪↨ꚉ₪-11011, then Praedyth, with Pahanin bringing up the rear. Everyone winced as the now-familiar sound of Kabr's armor grating against Vex rock echoed through the space. The man grumbled and hunched further over. "Find some larger tunnels," Kabr ordered.

"Is the big Titan having trouble fitting through human-sized spaces?" Pahanin teased. Said Titan stubbornly refused to acknowledge the jab.

"We'll call this path the Trial of Kabr," Azra decided, "In honor of our poor leader's shoulder guards."

* * *

?; Vault of Glass, Venus (?)

"This place is important."

"How can you tell?" Kabr asked.

"Look at the architecture!" Praedyth cried. His voice echoed off of the slick stone walls. "And this conflux- it's obviously something monumental."

The room Azra had found was less of a room and more of a cavern. Mist shrouded the pillars and walls, blurring the straight architectural lines. The fog seemed to fade into the darkness overhead, giving the illusion that they were in some mythic underworld instead of a real room with a defined ceiling. Azra wondered how the physics of the place worked- on Earth (or Venus, for that matter), this space would have collapsed in on itself long ago.

Trying to figure Vex physics made her head hurt. Static buzzed in her ears like nagging flies.

"Do we investigate this room or press on?" Azra asked Kabr.

"We stay," Kabyr started. "Pahanin-"

He was interrupted by the Hunter. "I'll keep the door, Kabr. Don't have to tell me. How many times have we worked together?"

"One thousand, three hundred and nine missions," Praedyth called in a bored-sounding voice, "including routine patrols."

"Traveler, you actually  _counted_?"

Kabr continued on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Azra will search for a way forward. The rest of us will investigate this space."

Azra performed a mock salute. ▪꙳⌂□↨₪↨ꚉ₪-11011 performed a real one.

* * *

 Azra was far from the rest of the group when someone (who? It was not Praedyth or Kabr or Pahanin, nor her-) tried to hack the Vex conflux and accidentally summoned the Templar down on their heads.

Things went south very, very quickly. Trying to look back, there would be no in between time- one moment, wondering if the Vex would crawl to fit through the space [espj nzfwo epwpazce, yz yppo ez qte]11, the next, gunfire filling the air, several Goblins already dead before her.

* * *

Azra found herself backed against a wall, alone. [Uz qhqdk fuyqxuzq, etq ime mxazq.]12 Her sidearm made quick enough work of the Vex (Supplicants and Fanatics, her Ghost named them), but she had to keep her feet nimble to avoid the Radiolaria on the floor. Something warned her it was Bad News.

Their team was too scattered, but they had all been selected by Kabr for a reason. All of them were excellent fighters in their own rights. Each of them managed to hold off the Vex. Azra backed her way to a tunnel [abg whfg na rkvg, GUR rkvg, gubhtu fur unqa'g rkcyberq gur fcnpr be gvzr rabhtu gb xabj gung]13 and held her ground desperately.

Wave upon wave came, and still no call for retreat from Kabr. Ammo would become an issue soon. Spark told her the Templar was shielded. Perhaps if they'd had more time to figure a solution-

Kabr asked a roll call on comms. Everyone responded to the positive- unhurt, holding their own. Pahanin guarded their way out viciously, with all the stubbornness and gravity expected in a rearguard. Now, if only they could regroup.

There were odd, deep, echoing chimes that made Azra's hair stand on end. "We need to make for the center," Spark urged. "We can't hold much longer cut off like this. Kabr's low on primary-"

Kabr shouted. Azra had never heard him raise his voice before. The taste of ozone was on her tongue. Kabr's lightning cast jittering shadows on the rock.

Too slow, too unfocused- a Supplicant exploded, close, singeing her and sending shrapnel into her side. She shook her head and turned her gun up to the blinding light of- whatever those things were. They were important.

How did she know that they were important?

* * *

? ERR

Something… something happened. Azra couldn't think straight. There were gaping holes in her memory, in logic itself. Slowly, they gelled, began to fill in, but it was too late. She should have moved ◊₻○҉₪ỽ◊ ago.

Seconds. If she had been a few seconds quicker, she could have vaulted the Vex soldiers and made for Kabr. Now the air was filled with laser fire. She had no real reason for why she  _hadn't_  made a break for it, and no time to contemplate where the seconds had gone. The Fanatics and Disciples were closing. Azra's eyes picked apart their formation, but there was nowhere that even offered her a chance.

She was hit square in the chest, armor barely taking enough of the brunt to keep her skin intact. She flinched, the second shot hitting slightly to the left. The flinch saved her.

 _MOVE_ , Spark demanded, and Azra did. She made for the door she'd guarded so jealously. Passageways branched and coalesced as she ran. Left, right, up, down. Forwards or backwards? She picked at random, mind spinning with possible Vex machinations. She could be playing into their hands and never know. Perhaps this entire time, they'd been playing into the Vex's hands.

 _Guardians make their own fate_ , Spark assured.  _The Vex haven't figured out Light_.

 _Yet_ , Azra finished.  _They haven't figured it out_ yet.

The paths led down more than they went up. How deep below the surface was she now? Did it matter, in a place like this? The hallways were claustrophobic at points, spacious at others. If she didn't pay attention, it was almost like she was in a real cave. (Real caves were never this… triangular.)

She skidded to a desperate halt on top of a cliff. An infinite abyss yawned before her. It was dark down there, and Dark. The mechanical footsteps were only getting closer.

Azra had to make a choice. Jump down the pit or try to backtrack and outmaneuver the Fanatics? One offered the chance to hide, sneak back out at her own discretion. The other offered a slimmer, more frantic hope to be out  _now_.

She decided to backtrack. She didn't even know if she could open the door from the inside, but there was no telling what could be down in-

She forgot that Vex could teleport. They were already on top of her.

Azra was  _tired_. No time to gather the sparse Light to disappear. No way through the wall of Vex even if she could. Invisibility would fool normal Vex, but who could tell if it would fool these, in this place? Perhaps if she were a Titan she could charge through their formation.

Wishful thinking. She relied on stealth and maneuverability to get out of sticky situations. Now and here she had no strength for stealth and no room to maneuver.

This was all thought even as her hands moved, emptying clip after clip of her sidearm into the Vex. Messy pools of radiolaria covered the floor, burning her feet where she stood. She hopped backwards, dancing at the edge, impossibly, insanely aware of the drop-off behind her.

Then the edge of the cliff shifted, just imperceptibly, from dry to wet, slightly smoother, the corner rounded more…

Azra's foot

Slips

Her hands

Do not

Catch the ledge

She

F a l l s

.

* * *

_They gasp in a breath. Life, just enough of it, drives the air out, and then back in. Alone. The two of them are alone. The rest of their Fireteam isn't here. Just a Hunter and her Ghost. Water drips up the walls of the chasm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 not visible behind your helmet, but he can read Light better than you could  
> 2 Just, turn around. Please.  
> 3 Pahanin, you're going to die eight years from now to a Hive-twisted man. The Vex are not your biggest concern.  
> 4 They almost seem as timeless as the Vault- perhaps its influence affects this place as well?  
> 5 For now.  
> 6 You've confused premonition and fear. Leave. Turn around and go.  
> 7 The Vex's surgery leaves scars, still  
> 8 He lets his fear rule him. Strange for a Nightstalker. Pahanin always was a skeptic at heart.  
> 9 You goddamn fool. Six Icaruses, this group. Or four. Or perhaps only Kabr flew too close to the sun. I should think you cast into the sea, icy water weighing down your wings.  
> 10 Of course she knows the way. They've had all of time to figure it out.  
> 11 they could teleport, no need to fit  
> 12 In every timeline, she was alone.  
> 13 not just an exit, THE exit, though she hadn't explored the space or time enough to know that


	19. Interlude: I'm Sorry

So oh no, play it slow  
Turn them lights down real low  
Tap your fingers, slide your toes  
No song lasts forever

Play it Slow – Lang Delancey

* * *

March 28, 2893, 22:17; The Last City, Earth

Tevis was back late from patrol. There was no one reason in particular why. The Cabal had been stubborn, his Sparrow had sand in the antigrav system, and Mars wasn't in the best of orbits compared to Earth. He also had no reason to rush. Cayde was still off at the Reef. Azra wouldn't be back yet.

The Tower was never  _quiet_ , per se, but the evening had brought a lull in foot traffic and a marginal amount of peace to the usually chaotic concourse. The air was balmy and sweet with Autumn's last golden hours. Winter's snows would hold off for just a bit longer. Stars twinkled dimly in the washed-out bits of sky visible around the Traveler. Tevis kept his knees and ankles loose as he ambled along the well-worn path towards the Hall of Guardians. He reached for the ever-present Void in his mind and drank in the atmosphere. It was… nice.

He was far from the only one on the concourse. A trio of Warlocks stood discussing something quietly by the railing. A single Guardian here or there strolled through. No doubt come morning this place would be filled with Guardians sprinting to and fro, Cryptarchs debating the nature of Ether (or whatever the popular topic was this week), and the general civilian bustle that the Tower produced. For now, the world almost seemed to hold its breath.

Tevis recognized one of the figures out on an evening walk. He slowed pace and nodded respectfully to the old Iron Lord. Saladin dipped his head in response. Tevis mused for a second how different their paths had been. They'd been Risen around the same time. While Saladin had helped build one of the greatest organizations of Lightbearers the system had ever seen, Tevis had shunned company to wander the wilds alone. In time, Saladin had lost everything. Tevis had found himself with nothing worth keeping.

And now here they both were, walking unhurriedly through the Tower on a quiet Saturday night. It was funny how many paths led to the same place in the end. Lord Saladin looked more tired than he usually did.

Tevis was interrupted from his thoughts when someone crashed into him from behind. If Tevis hadn't been so distracted, he might have heard them coming. The old Nightstalker casually reached out a hand and grabbed the interloper's elbow to keep them from falling over. Unrestrained Void Light made his fingers tingle and burn.

He steadied the Guardian (yes, it was a Guardian, a Hunter, his mind catalogued), and started berating them. "Calm down, the Wall's not going to fall if you take a few-"

His brain finally caught up with his mouth and he stopped speaking, because this Hunter's Light was still sending pins-and-needles up Tevis' arm, which meant they were a Nightstalker, and there weren't too many Nightstalkers Tevis didn't know personally. He hadn't immediately recognized the helmet and cape in the gathering darkness, but with the realization of the subclass, things clicked into place.

" _Pahanin_?" He asked incredulously. Pahanin was on Kabr's raid squad, why was he here, now? They had left for the Vault of Glass not eight hours ago. Why was he alone?

Why was he so panicked?

The younger Nightstalker jerked out of his grip, stumbling in hastiness. His armor was scorched and torn and stained with milky-white Radiolaria. His hands hung at his sides, empty and useless as the holster at his side. "I… I got to get- I gotta get to the Vanguard," he pleaded. The Awoken Hunter didn't make it more than a few steps before he faltered and fell to his knees, coughing.

" _Shit_ ," Tevis said. What had he said to himself earlier, about having nothing worth keeping?

* * *

March 30, 2893; the Last City, Earth

Andal's face was in his hands. "Alright, we'll put it to a vote."

"I say we go." Cayde said. "Either we spring her, or we get her body back."

Tevis crossed his arms. His voice was gruff. "Or we'll die like all the rest of them did."

"Pahanin made it out," Cayde countered.

"Pahanin was rearguard, and a flighty bastard. Azra isn't. Wasn't."

"You talk about her like there's no hope."

Tevis banged a fist on the table, setting the cutlery rattling. "It's the fucking Vault of Glass, you idiot! Nobody sat around wondering if Sai Mota was going to make it back when his whole fireteam went missing, because they went missing in the Hellmouth."

"You were the closest with her! And you don't even want to try?"

"What do you say, Shiro?" Andal asked. Three pairs of eyes turned on him.

He shifted, uncomfortable in the hard wooden chair. "I don't think Azra would want us to die trying to rescue her corpse. She's gone, Cayde."

Andal sighed. "Then it's decided. Nobody's going into the Vault. I'm sorry."

It wasn't quite clear who he was apologizing to.

* * *

April 14, 2893; Old Portugal, Earth

Some funerals were large messy affairs, with hundreds of mourners. Some were more raucous parties than last rights. Some were organized, with eulogies and schedules and little printed bulletins. Some were held in the City in the Tower plaza, or on the green, or even in bars and dives down in the City proper. Some were held on the windswept plains of Io, amongst pilgrims and ammonite fossils.

Because this funeral was for Azra Jax, it was none of those things. It was a small affair, quiet and brief. There was no body. They burned an empty cloak. It wasn't even one of her favorites, but it was the best they had. They held the ceremony just after the half-moon slipped over the horizon. The fire guttered in the sea breeze, bare and unshielded on the cliff's edge. The wind spread the ashes far inland, on broken, overgrown fields and rivers and the looted shells of Golden Age labs.

After the ceremony, the mourners (just over two dozen of them, not including Ghosts) retreated inland to a quaint little campsite. It wasn't quite big enough for all of them comfortably, but nobody seemed to mind much.

They passed around whiskey and spiced rum and talked. Some people (the two civilians, namely), didn't stay long. Others remained, stubbornly conscious, until the sun crested the eastern horizon.

* * *

_A Hunter with a clean black cloak and unscuffed armor:_

"I shouldn't have sent her out on that mission. But she'd have my ass for wallowing in regret, so…

"She was always there if you needed her. She was unselfish. Proud. Always quick with a joke. She just never  _stopped_. Never a day off. She lived and breathed the whole Hunter thing. I honestly never understood how she didn't run herself into the ground with all she took on. Look at her, twenty-four, as accomplished as Guardians five times her age. She's been places even I haven't. Imagine what she could have done if…

"If. Yeah."

* * *

_An Awoken man with turquoise eyes and civilian clothing:_

"She used to come by my old school twice a year to talk to the kids. She'd juggle knives or turn invisible. It really blew all of us away. It inspired me to come work in the Tower. Now I go visit the school, too.

"She was… part patron saint, part mascot, I think. She wasn't the best storyteller, but none of us cared. One time we all signed our names on a cloak and gave it to her."

_The clean Hunter in the black cape:_  "So  _that's_  what that is. Never saw her wear it on mission. Do you want it back?"

_The turquoise-eyed junior shipwright_ : "She wore it every time she visited. Maybe the school could frame it."

* * *

_A man with dirty blonde hair and kind blue eyes, shining metal on his hip:_

"She was an old soul. First met her at Twilight Gap, did you know it? I pulled her out of a Fallen war party, she helped me back to the City. Back then she was lost, in more ways than one. It was right inspiring to see her find her path. Shame that way saw her to this end. This universe is a little darker now without her."

* * *

_An old blue-and-yellow Exo with a raspy voice:_

"Always remembered her by the eyes. You could get the important details by watching what she watched. Never figured out how she kept getting into my booth. Never stole anything, she'd just clean her guns on my table. Good for company. Never asked anything hard. Never minded if I didn't remember."

* * *

_A tall, broad-shouldered man with one horn:_

"She never liked the Crucible. She told me once that to get better at fighting Cabal, you went to Mars and fought Cabal, to get better at fighting Fallen you must fight Fallen. She said she was as good at fighting Humans as she ever wanted to be. She still scouted for the Redjacks on occasion. She was selfless with her time and good at her job. I respected that."

* * *

_A black-and-white Ghost:_

He and Azra were perfect for each other. They always had each other's backs. I think they drove each other crazy sometimes, in the best way. He always hung close to her. Sometimes it felt they were one unit with two parts, rather than a sum of two things.

* * *

_A stocky Exo with cyan optics and a yellow-orange cloak:_

"I still owe her six favors, my good knife, two thousand glimmer, and a nice bottle of whiskey. If there was one way she wasn't very Hunter, it was that she was terrible at collecting debts. I honestly think she forgot them half the time."

* * *

_A short, lean Hunter with a scuffed notebook in his hands:_

"She fought hard. That last time wasn't the only time I ran with her. You put her on point, she wouldn't miss a single thing. Never a door her Ghost couldn't unlock. She always fought like it was a dance and she was the only one who knew the steps. It took everything the Vault could throw at her just to bring her down. Her jokes were pretty bad. I think we all know who we can blame for that."

* * *

_An orangey Ghost:_

Spark was brave. He wasn't ever afraid to speak his mind. He loved languages. Loved cryptography. He would argue they were the same thing.

* * *

_A blue exo with a beige-and-red cloak who talks with his hands:_

"So she goes over the edge, right? I'm thinking she's fallen straight down into the nest, and we're gonna have to fish her out. I swear she musta jumped on purpose, 'cause next thing you know, her Sparrow comes racing up the hill. Goes flying up, dozens of feet. Beautiful arc. She drops the thing like a spent rocket stage- it lands on a couple of Dregs. Reaches up- pow! Golden Gun. I think I'm crazy, 'cause there's two suns in the sky. The Kell doesn't even have time to raise his cannon. Bam! Bam! He's ash. Musta thought the sky itself was falling. Even better, she sticks the landing! Ten out of ten. Does a little bow, goes right back to killing Fallen."

* * *

_A white-and-brown exo in a white-and-brown cloak:_

"Lots of Guardians go through life whacking our own path through the weeds. She didn't have to. She fit right in to the fabric. I had to check to make sure she actually left footprints. If I know anything about her, she wasn't scared at the end."

* * *

_A lean Human with a maroon cloak and a scowl on his face:_

"She'd be upset with how somber you're being. Everyone dies. The difference is your life. She lived a happy one, doing good things. That's something to celebrate."

* * *

_A sly red Ghost:_

He always shared his map data. Left funny little comments, too. He wasn't an artist with the camera angles, but he was always rolling at the right moment. You could always rely on him for a good debate. Some Ghosts have their head up their metaphorical asses, you know? He didn't.

* * *

April 15, 2893; Old Portugal, Earth

Three Hunters sat on the cliffside, watching the last few stars disappear from the sky. "So," Shiro said, "Just like that."

"Yep," Tevis replied.

Cayde didn't say anything as he chucked sticks and rocks over the edge, trying to catch the splash where they entered the waves below.

"What do we do now?" Shiro asked. Venus was the last star still visible. They all watched as a scrap of cloud moved to block their view.

Tevis stood with a grunt, dusting off his cape. "We keep moving," he said.


	20. Typical

Back when we were kids, we swore we knew the future  
And how our words would take us halfway 'round the world  
But I never left this town, and you never saw New York  
And we ain't ever crossed the sea

Always Gold – Radical Face

* * *

May(?) 10(?), 2893(?); Inner System Space

The ship's controls shook under her hands. The warp engines whined. In their defense, they hadn't been run for centuries. The craft's shaking gave the impression of being stuck in a giant old washing machine. Azra pushed the throttle harder, smiling when she felt the ship finally break free of Venus' atmosphere. The air turbulence vanished, but now the craft reached some resonant speed; the controls jerked: left, right, left.

It was twenty days after the Vault. It had been a hard twenty days. She'd nearly died at the Waking Ruins, stumbling out of the gateway, taking a breath, and panicking as it was locked away, taken from her and hidden behind some impassable barrier. The next breath came without her consent, blindsiding her. She couldn't move, couldn't even think. She gaped at the rising sun and the colors it spread across the sulphurous sky. A Vex laser to the chestplate had awoken her instinct to run, just barely in time. She almost hadn't made it out. The world didn't function as she was used to. She couldn't remember the present. The future was gone, the past was inaccessible.

It had been a hard struggle back to find time again. Hunger, thirst, and exhaustion assaulted her seemingly at random. And there was hostile Vex, the House of Winter, dangerous Sulphur vents. The open spaces were scattered with whispering bones and the dense underbrush hid scree slopes and pits of mud from view. But slowly, step by step, breath by breath, she'd found time's flow again.

Then she'd searched for Praedyth, but Praedyth was nowhere to be found. The gate, when she fought her way back to it, showed no record of ever being opened. They'd tried to call for help on the Vanguard channels, but there was no response. They tried every private channel they knew, and eventually just scanned through all the common frequencies, and found nothing, just ever-shifting static that gave her a headache. Whenever Praedyth was, she could offer no help.

Spark had a lot of corrupt data. There were so many errors and scrambled indices, it was hard to tell how much they were missing in the first place. To recover it, they'd need a reboot or a Cryptarch (and those were in short supply in the Venusian wilds). Neither of them was willing to take Spark out of commission, alone in hostile territory with no help coming. They counted hours by the shadows and days by the angles of the sun. They had left the Vault about three weeks after they'd entered it, if the orbits were to be believed. And then they'd had to muck around trying to remember how clocks work, and look for Praedyth, and figure out how to cook Venusian Tree-Cabbage, and track down a spaceport, and find a ship in good enough condition to get them back to Earth…

It hadn't been easy. But they'd done it. With a giddy expression on her face, Azra pulled back on the stick. Earth bloomed before them in real-space. It had always been her favorite planet: a shining blue sphere, wisps of clouds like scattered salt marbled on its surface. The poles glowed a shifting green and pink. Then, closer, the rugged topography in blue and green and brown. She could sit and admire it all day. But on this day there were other, more pressing matters. She steered the ship down into the atmosphere. The ocean gave way to mountains, and then a great white sphere appeared on the horizon.

* * *

_It emerged suddenly from between the clouds. She didn't spare a single glance for the City. Azra's eyes were immediately drawn up to the sphere that overshadowed the mountain valley. It was_ _huge_ _. The shell was broken in places, showing dark gaps. The unmarred parts of the structure were dazzling and vaguely pearlescent. Azra's fingertips tingled. It seemed so familiar. Spark said something about a hangar. Azra nodded, still dumbfounded, and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes._

* * *

Azra shook off the premonition (postmonition?) They'd only gotten worse since…  _since?_

"I think we're still a little unstuck," Spark commented. He was right. Though it was nothing like those first moments, hours, days after exiting the Vault, trying to track linear time was  _hard_. She still stumbled on gaps and trains of thought that if followed lead to nothing but blinding, screaming nonsense.

"It's annoying," Azra growled through clenched teeth. At least it was clear where her temporal 'uniqueness' came from. She didn't have to worry about Osiris' Vex-puppet theory anymore.

Probably. (Could she tell the difference between release and escape?)

Though it had been late afternoon on Venus, it was early morning in the City. That alone was enough to make her head spin again. She let Spark have the stick and took several steadying breaths, running through memories in her head until she  _knew_  that she hadn't just skipped several hours. That hours even existed. That different places on Earth and Venus would have different angles of sun, but the relative time hadn't changed.

Well, the relative time  _had_  changed, from the flight, and the speedy travel meant relativity got into play…

She took another gulp of air and put her head down in between her knees, counted the thudding heartbeats until the world steadied again and she could look out the window without feeling like she was about to pass out or throw up.

Spark made a disapproving noise. "I still can't access the comms, or even the civilian feeds. My keys are definitely corrupted."

"Straight to the War Room, then," the Guardian replied. "They can give us new ones. For  _now_  let's take it slow and steady. No need to incite some Titan to road rage. Air rage?" She shrugged. Spark made a few clicks and went back to the controls of their clunker ship. Azra let her breath whistle between her teeth and held on to the 'now'.

They needn't have worried. Traffic was light, making it easy to maneuver the flight lanes without guidance. She transmatted down into the hangar. The rushing, spectral feeling of it left her a bit unsteady. It had become unfamiliar. Also unfamiliar was the atmosphere in the Tower, though it fit her memories well enough. It was just so odd, after the dripping and echoing halls of the Vault, to see sunlight streaming through the windows and to hear the whining hum of jumpship engines. She felt out of place. There were only a couple of frames and one unknown civilian in the hangar. A clock on the wall read 5:42 am. She mentally checked the date with Spark again, who stressed the word 'estimate'.

The Tower was quiet in the early dawn light. Most of the civilians appeared to be asleep still, though Azra spotted a few Guardians about. The Vanguard usually started major ops at around 05:30, so she was right on time.

On time. Heh.

As she strode into the Hall of Guardians, she became aware at just how  _dirty_  she was. The floors were pristine, since the Frames had spent all night cleaning. Her boots actually left marks on the ground. Her cloak was in absolute tatters, with several gaping holes in the hood and the material hanging in rags halfway down her ribcage. It used to be calf-length and a couple shades of green, but the dirt had been so ground-in that it was now a brownish gray. Her armor was piecemeal and likewise dirt-worn and chipped. She'd tried washing her hands and face in a stream back on Venus, but the muck was embedded still in the lines in her skin.

The big table was relatively clear of clutter, though there was an impressive map laid out on it. Ikora Rey and Commander Zavala stood where she expected them to be. Hunter Vanguard Andal Brask was notably absent. Azra hesitated a moment, then made her way over to Ikora, who was reading something off a fancy new data tablet.

"What do you need?" the Warlock Vanguard asked, eyes still tracking her text.

Azra cleared her throat. Her voice still came out raspy. "Uh, could you approve access for my comms? I think I've got some corrupted keys."

Ikora gave her a quizzical look over the device in her hands. "You're a Hunter, so only the Hunter Vanguard has permissions to link you to the comms network. You'll have to wait."

"Typical." Azra growled. "Well, can you raise him for me? It's kind of important. I've got some pretty, uh… 'choice' news." Ikora rolled her eyes like she'd heard it a thousand times before, but still tapped out a message on her tablet. Zavala didn't even look up.

In the meantime, Azra went over to study the map, if just to have something to do. "I'll try rebooting a few of my systems, now that we're not in imminent danger of limb loss?" Spark half-asked. She nodded her assent and squinted at the scribbled handwriting. Something about it was familiar. The map was of Eurasia, and a quick check revealed several more layers underneath it of different places. Spark settled like an ornate paperweight on one of the corners, Light dimming while he tried to recover the map files and chronometry data.

It was another fifteen or twenty minutes of relative silence. Two Warlocks and a Titan came in to talk to their respective Vanguards, giving Azra quizzical looks as they passed. The map was fascinating and very complex. Lost sectors, river crossings, caves, stashes, and gathering places dotted the expanse. Notes filled in the blank spaces and margins.

Finally, with a noise that sounded suspiciously like cable dial-up tones, Spark flicked back to brilliance. He shook his shell in a negative gesture. "Not good," he groused, "it's almost like the map files are incomplete or encrypted. We'll have to visit Master Vanna, I guess." With her eyes still focused on the map, Azra  _sensed_  rather than saw Ikora raise her head. The Warlock Vanguard's Light pulsed with confusion and mild surprise. The Hunter looked down and studied her hand with both sight and sense, marveling at how more precise it had gotten over the past… whenever. The Vault had been Dark. Everything stood out now, including the hint of unsettled tartness creeping into Ikora's cherry-palms flat-whispering winds-crackle Light.

Spark interrupted her thoughts. "This chronometry data doesn't make sense." Azra shrugged at him. The Vex and time always made for a confusing combo. Spark seemed… worried, though. "I don't think that three-week estimate was accurate-"

He was interrupted when a familiar presence swaggered into the room. "Ah, Cayde!" Azra proclaimed, eyes still studying the dirt in her fingernails. "Could you ping Andal for me and tell him I'm alive? I can't access the comms, so maybe calling-"

Her voice caught in her throat as she turned around, curious as to why Cayde was up and in the War Room so early and why he was alone.

He was wearing Andal's cloak. Most of his armor, too. He stopped in his tracks, apparently dumbfounded. Sundancer, his Ghost, lit the dirt-encrusted Hunter up with a quick scan. Azra barely noticed. Her mind was racing, trying to fit all the puzzle pieces together. It was a joke, right? Wearing Andal's clothes and walking in like he owned the place. A prank.

He broke that notion completely. "Azra?" He asked, all disbelief and quiet wonder. Both Ikora and Zavala were looking up from their work now. Cayde took a step forward.

"Cayde," Azra said, some unidentifiable emotion making her voice thick. He took another step forward, and she took one back.

"It is you, my… where-"

She interrupted him. "Cayde, where's Andal."

That stopped him short for a second. "Maybe you should sit down- "

"Where's  _Andal_ , Cayde." She said it a bit more fiercely than she intended. Cayde looked a bit shocked.

He started forward again, one hand held out slightly, either to steady her or to keep her from running. She backtracked, skittering away like a nervous animal, arms out as well, like she could ward off the impending news. Cerulean optics locked with gray eyes. He didn't make tears, and she had run out of them long ago, but there was anguish there.

Her heart was breaking. Everything was sharp. The sky seemed to twist and billow above her, moments from falling. "Cayde, Cayde,  _you're wearing his cloak_! What happened? Where is he?"

He straightened, stopped advancing. Then, softly, matter-of-fact: "Andal's dead." His hands hung useless and empty at his sides.

Azra collapsed into the chair Sundancer transmatted beneath her, the air and fight going out of her with a whoosh. The sky fell. Zavala put his data pad down. Azra struggled to draw breath, staring at the prints of Venusian mud her boots left on the otherwise shining floor.

It was several long seconds before Azra worked up the nerve to ask, "And, Tevis and Shiro, and…?" Who else? Jaren? Baldr? Marcus? Her head hurt. Blood roared in her ears

"Both still kicking," Cayde said, a little pride in his voice. "I'll call them. I think this kind of news is better told in person?"

"How lo-" Azra began to ask, but Spark already knew the answer.

"Fifty-seven years."

" _Fifty-seven years_?!" Azra cried, disbelief and dismay making her voice crack. "What happened to three weeks?"

"My chronometer got all screwed up in the Vault. I couldn't access the City networks for an update." He felt just as helpless as she did.

"But fifty-seven  _years_?" She stared down at her hands. Cracked and chipped nails. Dirt ground into every pore. She pushed the tattered, stained hood off her head, feeling her hair, longer than it should be, but she'd cut it in the Vault, a couple of times, how many times?

_But 'how many' requires counting, and counting requires linear time, a first haircut and a second one, and the world seems to skip and stutter underneath her. She feels bile rise in the back of her throat. "I think I'm- g-" But she won't be able to get the word out; her brain skips between the present thought and the future action, the thing that hadn't happened yet but would happen but might not happen but all the events sewn into the fabric of that moment existed, but the action didn't exist, she can't remember it, but she could remember it, should… be able to remember…_

_There is a bucket in her hands and the meager lunch she scrounges up on Venus two hours ago returns with a vengeance. Spark is on one shoulder and a familiar Light is at the other, worn leather and playing cards and whiskey telling her to take it easy. She's holding onto the bucket for dear life and Spark clicks rapidly in her ear._

Light bloomed underneath her, and suddenly she could breathe. Azra had been at the Guardian business for- well, for a long time, and she knew a Warlock's rift when she felt one. The synesthetic taste of cherries and lemon turned to bile and tree-cabbage. Her death grip on the bucket slackened.

Spark materialized a canteen and she washed the nasty taste from her mouth, feeling the heat of shame rise in her cheeks. Not half an hour into her (semi)-triumphant return, and  _Vanguard Commander_  Zavala had seen her puke into a bucket. And Ikora Rey to boot. Cayde, at least, had already seen her puke at least half a dozen times, so there wasn't a first there.

"Feeling better?" Ikora asked. Azra nodded mutely, embarrassment holding her tongue. "Then why don't we start at the beginning," the Warlock Vanguard continued. "Who are you?"

"Ikora!" Cayde scolded, sounding offended. "You remember Azra. She ran with me and Andal's crew back in the day."

"I'm trying to see what  _she_  remembers, Cayde. Not you. Can you answer the question?"

Cayde put his hand on Azra's shoulder. Sundancer took the bucket. Azra took a steadying breath, laying her palms flat down on her knees.

"It's… confusing," she started. "I think- everything's steady. I remember waking up in Old Portugal for the first time. And Twilight Gap. Mare Ibrium, The Dare, Andal's and Cayde's. Osiris leaving. Andal… Vanguarding. Kabr came to him with this plan to scope out the Vault of Glass. Not necessarily take it right off, mind you, but map a bit of it. Get as far as we could safely, come back and try again when we knew it a bit more. We brought along three…" The facts refused to add up in her head. She was about to say  _three Warlocks_ , but that left no room for Kabr and Pahanin on their fireteam of four. She left the paradox alone and went back to talking.

"And Cayde had his eye on it this whole time, but he was off tied up doing something for the Reef and Andal was stuck in the Tower, and they weren't going to kill Atheon straight off, and they needed a good forward scout, he recommended me. There should have been six of us." It slipped out before she really processed the thought, but as her brain caught up, it made sense. "Kabr wouldn't have done it with less, but he  _did_  do it. With four. Kabr, me, Pahanin as rearguard, and Praedyth. Praedyth!"

She'd nearly forgotten, with all the excitement. "Have you heard anything of Praedyth? He- they catch him, but I got, I will get him out, and I  _know_  he leaves the Vault because I sent him out befo-" the word catches in her throat. 'Before' wouldn't work _. She backtracks and tries_  a different path. "I watched and will watch him exit. And that means  _nothing_ , but, where- when…"

 _She closes her eyes and_  took a deep, slow breath. In. Out.  _She clenches her hands into fists to stop them trembling._

Ikora Rey broke the silence. "Praedyth. I've heard that name before. Scattered pieces of gear, references in the margin of a text. I'll have to check the archives. Are you alright?"

"We're… it's disorienting. The Vault was—is, very different from here," Spark replied. He had no stomach to be upset, but his oddly-functioning chronometer and his Guardians' jumping thoughts were hard to handle in their own right.

Ikora, ever the Warlock, wanted an explanation. "If you describe it, we might be able to help you. Are the lights too bright?"

Azra just started talking, eyes still screwed shut. She knew the answer. "When we- when Guardians enter the Vault, we force it into a different shape. Our will and our Light – we're  _para_ causal, so we force time to be linear around us, or at least more linear than it normally is. Because we're used to cause and effect, and we're so strong, everything around us is dictated by that logic. But I fall into the ravine and when I rez at the bottom, there isn't enough extra Light to fill a thimble. No extra strength."

Spark spun nervously in the air. "Frankly, there wasn't enough Light for a solid rez in the first place. I pushed it." And they were close now, so close, that Azra could feel the guilt in him like it was her own. Perhaps a better Ghost would have found more Light. Maybe he could have kept her from falling, and then they would have  _actually_  been out within three weeks.

"Don't you  _dare_  blame yourself," she cut in harshly. "We were in one of the Darkest places in the system. I should have died for real." She snatched him out of the air and cradled him in her hands, staring intently into his eye. This was important. The doubt and shame in him nearly broke her heart again. "You fucking saved my life. You've saved my life a thousand times. You stayed with me in that ravine and kept me from going crazy for fifty-seven Traveler-forsaken years. For… a damned eternity. In the most literal sense. You are my best friend and I will  _not_  stand for anyone talking smack about you, even you. You are the  _best_  Ghost. I'll stab anyone who says different."

That seemed to mollify him a bit. They'd still have to talk later. But even if  _he_  didn't think he deserved such praise, he knew she believed it wholeheartedly. That would be enough for now.

Cayde interrupted their small spectacle by clearing his throat. Sheepishly, Azra let her Ghost go and returned her attention to the Warlock Vanguard. "Um, in any case, it's… weird. And if I think about it too much, I'm gonna barf again. But it has been getting better. We've been out for…"

"Two and a half weeks," Spark filled in.

"Twenty days, right, and I could barely think straight at first. Now I can hold conversation. Improvement!"

"Have you died yet?" Ikora's interest was almost like a spotlight, now.

Azra squirmed beneath her gaze and shook her head. "Didn't dare in the Vault, except that one time. It was real Dark. And then afterwards, I just… managed to… not get killed?"

Ikora's eyes were still sharp as she nodded her head. "Well, I certainly see no reason why you couldn't try for a fresh revive now. If resurrecting in the Vault was what lead to these temporal issues, then perhaps starting again in the shadow of the Traveler will put things to rights. If that fails, try Io. It is still flooded with the Traveler's energy."

Zavala interceded. He hadn't moved from his position at the end of the table. "This is  _fascinating_ , but there is a  _very_  important strike in Old Accra that requires our attention. I'm sure there will be time for this discussion later."

Cayde moved to help Azra stand. "Right, right. Let's get you a shower and a new cloak, yeah? I'm sure you'll feel better with some food in you, too."

"Cayde. You can't use this as an excuse to get out of your patrol duties." Zavala had certainly gotten sterner since she'd left. Maybe it was a side-effect of working with Cayde every day.

"Zavala! I wasn't going to. Lemme just get her set on her way, and then I'll be right back. Five minutes."

Zavala grumbled, but Cayde pulled his packmate along, out of the room and into a semi-private corner.

* * *

The first thing he did was hug her. She smelled of copper and sulphur and Venusian mud. Her Light was downright nostalgic. She felt like whitewater spray and hidden laughter. Pine and starlight and static shocks and a perfectly-executed drifting bank on a Sparrow.

But she also now felt of obscuring mists and icy water over stone.

Cayde pulled away and just looked at her. Even dirt-encrusted and scruffy, she was a sight for sore eyes. How many times had he wished for just one more conversation? Now here it was, and he didn't know what to say first. "I'm just glad you're back. We all thought you were dead, for sure. Pahanin said he lost you in the Templar's Well."

That brought a spark of light to her eyes. "Pahanin escaped?"

"Yep," he said, somehow managing to pop the 'p' without any lips. "He said Kabr fought the Vex alone. He saw everyone fall and he ran. Made it out by the skin of his teeth. Guess he was wrong."

"No, he's… I ran, but  _deeper_ , not out. They were chasing me. I escaped. But I fell, and I couldn't leave. They caught Praedyth. Put him in a cell. And Kabr… it's complicated. But there should have been six of us, Cayde."

"Well, unlike Ikora, I've looked at the records, long and hard. You only went in with four."

Her voice was thick and dull. "I think the Vex got the other two. In the Vault, they have absolute power. They look and they see if you fit into their Pattern. And if you can't be made to fit, they… cut you away. Like withered broken branches. Out of time. So you never exist in the first place. But it's not always perfect, they can't just go ripping things apart and have it make  _sense_ … We should have been six. But we were only four. Praedyth was captured. Maybe they wanted to study him, or use him for something. Pahanin got out. Kabr… Kabred. I hid. But the others…"

Cayde placed his hands on her shoulders. Azra was… different, now. She used to be so fierce. Daring. Now she was halting and hesitant, and when she met his eyes, he could see fear there.

"Listen. One thing at a time. Here's some Glimmer. And one of the Kinderguardian caches. Hunter dorms are still where they used to be. You get yourself cleaned up, get some fresh clothes on, get some food in you."

"You have access to the comms now," Sundancer said, "but I think you should wait to call up the rest of the pack. Shiro and Tevis are both out on missions right now." Andal, of course, she couldn't call, because Andal was gone.

"I'll tell them to head back a-s-a-p, then we can break the news all gentle-like, in person. In the meantime, you… just… take it slow, alright? If you need a place to sleep, I've got Andal's old room. Futon's always open. You give them the key, Sundancer?"

She blinked at him. "Who do you think I am? Of course I gave them the key."

"Well, okay then. I'll see about scrounging up some better gear for you, too." He paused. What could he even say to make thing better? "A lot of things have changed. A lot hasn't. I'll ping you when I can get off, and then we'll have a real talk, alright? Can you do until then?"

She nodded, but she didn't look up. That wasn't right. This was the woman who, at Twilight Gap, took her Sparrow and did a flip as she jumped a Fallen Walker. She'd called Osiris an egotistical bastard  _to his face_. She was the undefeated champion at the Knife Game. And now she was some fresh Kinderguardian again, unsteady and unsure, thrust into a world she didn't understand.

So he hugged her again. He didn't care that she was getting muck all over his gear. This time, her arms came up to return the gesture. He was solid, warm. The Vault had been so cold. And there'd been no-one to hug, unless you had a death wish.

"I have to get back now, or Zavala will have me running patrols for the next twelve hours." He pulled back. Ruffled her hair, like he used to do when she was new and wonderstruck at everything. "Eyes up. We'll get through this."


	21. Six Decades Late

How long, baby, have I been away?  
Oh, it feels like ages though you say it's only days  
There ain't language for the things I've seen, yeah  
And the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams

Meet Me in the Woods – Lord Huron

* * *

May 10,  _29_ -fucking- _50_ , 06:14, the Last City

The Hunter dorms were, at all times, either deathly silent or louder than a Fallen riot. There was absolutely no in-between. To Azra's chagrin, six in the morning was one of the loud times. The lines for the showers were as long as they ever were decades ago. Azra only vaguely recognized a few people. The crowd was a mix of Hunters in from the field in scorched and dusty clothing and more routine Tower visitors in their sleepwear.

None were nearly so filthy or battered as Azra. The Hunters looked at her dirt-encrusted state and the weariness she wore down to her bones and collectively waved her to the front of the line.  _Hunters look after each other_ , Andal had said.  _Nobody else will_.

At least with all the dirt, nobody assumed her to be a Kinderguardian again. Or yet?

* * *

" _My name's_ _ **꙰**_ _. You look like you're new. I'm new, too."_

 _The Warlock sat and stuck out her hand. Azra stared at it for a moment, before remembering_ oh yeah, handshakes. _She took it. The Warlock's grip was strong._

" _I'm not new." Azra's voice cracked a little. Her lips were dry. She coughed and reached for her canteen_.

* * *

She stumbled and bit off a hiss. Someone grabbed her elbow to steady her, which  _only makes it worse_ -

 _Breathe_. She breathed, and thanked the person in monotone, and headed for the open stall. The ground seemed to pitch beneath her feet. She had only just closed the curtain when her nausea became too much to bear.

At least there was no food in it this time.

Azra turned on the tap and stood under the stream, gear and all. The water came out of the showerhead clear but went down the drain a brownish-gray. Azra took the soap and started scrubbing.

Eventually, though, she was forced to admit defeat and let Spark take the muddy clothes. There was no way those were getting dirt-free without some serious TLC. The water remained a steady lukewarm, and the lack of icy shock kept her feeling off-balance. Usually the boilers gave up quick and doused them all in meltwater runoff from the glaciers. (The marvels of modern technology: bearable showers?)

She worked vigorously, but it was still another half an hour until she was anything approaching 'clean'. The room had only gotten louder. Complaints, taunts, and jokes flew thick and fast as bored Hunters crowded the space. Azra knew better than to try to hold on to the words.

She shut off the water and Spark produced a towel for her (a Tower luxury- who had space for special drying cloths in the wilds?). Azra fumbled in her haste to get dry and clothed and  _out_  of this loud insanity.

Cleared from grime, she could see her hands and arms (and knees, and shins) were scarred from wounds Spark could not heal properly. Scars didn't stick on Guardians unless they were important (Azra's fingers found the raised ridge on her neck automatically, a little relieved to feel It still there). She knew some people who'd taken sword cuts at Mare Ibrium and had walked away with permanent reminders. She wondered if these would stay after a rez.

"Someone's taking their sweet time in stall fourteen!" a woman shouted.

"I'm moving!" Azra answered.

* * *

May 10, 2950, 12:05, the Last City

_Drip_.

She stared at the spoon. It was half-full of broth, tilted just so the liquid spilled over the edge.

_Drip._

She willed the soup to reverse its course, for gravity to push up. It stayed in the bowl. Another drop trembled on the convex underside of the spoon, ready to be shaken off by the smallest motion.  _Stop_ , she said.

It fell.

_Drip._

She dipped the spoon in again and watched with dull interest as the liquid slid over the smooth plastic. Soup broke from laminar flow and coalesced into inverse bubbles, pulled inexorably towards the bowl like sand running through the curves of an hourglass.

_Drip._

_D r i p._

_D r i-nto the small stream, then brought then up to her face. Dry face. Hands in water. Then water in hands. Then hands on face, water on face. Simple geometry, cause-and-effect. The water on her skin was not burbling over the rocks downstream, because she had interrupted its flow and brought it somewhere else. Dappled sunlight shone through the leaves overhead. It danced randomly, with no pattern. Just static. She put her hands into the stream again, feeling its constant flow. It went but one direction at one speed. The water was freezing. Still she kept her palms pressed to the streambed, feeling the current flutter and push around her wrists. It just kept going._

_And going._

_And go-ld. She puts her hands to the stream, watching the water fall out of her cupped fingers towards the ceiling. Thirst itches her throat. All around her, drips echo in reverse. A soft scattering of noises, building up to individual crescendos, cutting off abruptly as droplets gather themselves off the floor. There is some hidden rhythm to it. The sound reflects off of the stone walls, reverbing and echoing over itself and others. If she focuses, she can almost pull some meaning from it._

_The water falls down, pooling in her palms. She let its splash to the floor, interrupting the perfect symphony of drips. She is not thirsty._

_Water drops hang like jewels suspended in the air-_

* * *

"Hello there!"

_The spoon clatters into the bowl. Soup splashes the front of her vest._

_Azra takes a deep_  breath and looked up. There was a Warlock leaning on the table in front of her. Pale blue skin, purple hair pulled back into an elaborate knotted hairdo. Green gems of eyes that shone out between the navy tattoos. Voidwalker for sure. Her eyes burned like neon lights reflected from the wet streets of the City. Blood on her tongue and ash and-

"You alright, there? Didn't mean to startle you."

Azra went through the motions of cleaning soup off her armor.  _She mourns a minute for the uneaten food. Even before, she didn't like to waste it. Before… before-_

"My name's Veera. You look like you're new. I'm new, too."

The Warlock sat and stuck out her hand. Azra stared at it for a moment, before remembering  _oh yeah, handshakes_. She took it. The Warlock's grip was strong.

"I'm not new." Azra's voice cracked a little. Her lips were dry. She coughed and reached for her canteen.

"Really? That cloak looks like it's straight from the Vanguard's starter."

Azra picked at the goldenrod-yellow fabric. It was patterned with Hunter sigils. "My cloak got wrecked. Better a dumpy Vanguard cloak than none at all."

"Don't you normally have multiple cloaks? Surely they get stained or ripped on missions. What do you do if you're on a strike and-"

" _All_  my cloaks got wrecked, " Azra interrupted. She'd taken three into the Vault. But bandages don't grow on walls, and there hadn't been enough Light at times to heal...

"Huh. Bummer." The Warlock crossed her arms, fingers tapping on her bond. "Can't say I've seen you around."

"I've been… _out_  a while," Azra explained. Veera didn't seem satisfied with that answer. Azra shrugged and went back to eating her soup. Not her fault if the Warlock didn't buy it.

"So… how old are you then?" Girl was stubborn, Azra had to give her that.

"Uh…" The Hunter paused, spoon halfway to her mouth. Soup dripped back into the bowl. She desperately tried to ignore the non-existent echoes. Twenty-four when she'd gone in, plus… fifty-seven…

Spark poofed into realspace and chimed in. "Eighty-one." (Best Ghost. Good Mathematician.) Veera's eyes lit up (even more than they already were) and she smiled warmly at the small machine.

"Hello! I'm Veera."

"My name is Spark." The Ghost bobbed in an approximation of a bow.

Veera nodded her head eagerly, still smiling. "Pleasure. My Ghost is just Ghost. I keep telling him to pick a name, but he's stubborn about it. By the way, I didn't catch yours…" The Warlock looked pointedly at the Hunter.

"Name's Azra," she mumbled through a mouthful of carrot. The Warlock had been nice to Spark, so she couldn't bring herself to resent her for the rudeness. If she was new, she might not be used to Hunter manners yet.

Veera tapped her bond thoughtfully. "Maybe you  _are_  old. That name is familiar."

"Huh." Azra lapsed back into silence.

"How long have  _you_  been around?" Spark asked. He'd always been the polite one.

"Oh, I've got nothing on you. I've about eight or nine months now. It's been crazy. Rasputin and the Array, and that crazy Hive ritual that had all hands on deck a while back…"

Azra nodded her head like she had any idea what the Warlock was talking about.

"Still, probably seemed like nothing next to Twilight Gap. Or the Great Disaster. Or the Dredgen Yor business-"

Azra ate another spoonful of soup. She wasn't exactly  _unexperienced_  with Warlocks, but usually they didn't start rambling on you unless you gave them a reason. She didn't have any good strategies to make the stream of words stop.

Lucky for her, Cayde had a great sense of timing. Just as Azra's nerves were beginning to fray, he sauntered into the courtyard like he owned the place (which, he kind of did?).

"Heyyy, making friends?" He drawled. He nodded to the Voidwalker and slouched onto the bench next to Azra. "Impeccable taste. Veera's one of the good Warlocks. Or maybe I'm just saying that because she makes my job easier. Kid's crazy. Took down the Devil Archon Priest on like her sixth day ever. Broke into the Black Garden and killed its heart not three weeks ago, too. Girl's already making history."

 _Black Garden_  was enough to catch Azra's attention. Place had been all rumor back in her day. She sized up the Awoken with new eyes.

Veera blushed and nodded. "Do you two know each other?"

Cayde slung an arm around the other Hunter's shoulders. "Oh, me and Azra? We go way back. Like, waaaaaay back. Damn good forward scout. Used to run with me an' Andal's crew."

Veera straightened up in that Warlock way that meant  _business_. Hunter manners would label her as stiff and wary, but for some reason Warlocks seemed to think a straight posture was required for seriousness. The Voidwalker spoke as Azra mused on inter-class politics and ate her soup. "I've been meaning to ask you about scouts, Cayde. Sylas-4 and I are planning a raid, and we could use another Hunter. Tapio Llyr is the only one we have on board. Do you have any suggestions?"

He hummed. "Depends on where you're going and who you've got with you. Going down the Hellmouth again?"

"Actually, no. I pulled some worrying records from the Ishtar Collective last week. It's about time we made a run of the Vault of Glass."

Both of the Hunters tensed in surprise. The spoon creaked as Azra's grip tightened. Spark vanished. Blood roared in her ears. She kept her eyes firmly on the table as Cayde spoke.

"You do realize the last fireteam that went in there got wrecked, right? And they weren't exactly fresh meat."

Veera's Light was easy, confident. "We've had almost a sixty years of technological improvement since then. And they made a lot of mistakes that I don't plan on repeating. We're taking a full fireteam, not just four. And we've been training together. We won't break and run when things get difficult."

The spoon shattered in Azra's hand. There was a beat of silence as blood ran between her fingers. Drops of if fell on the table.

_Drip._

_Drip._

* * *

The Hunter opened her fist. Bloody bits of plastic clattered to the ground. She stood abruptly, setting the bowl a-clatter on the metal table.

She had been quiet, reserved, almost, keeping her gaze down and her answers short throughout the whole conversation. Now she met Veera's eyes with something akin to fury on her face. " _No._ You are  _not_ going in the Vault.  _Nobody_  is going into the Vault. Nobody… ugh!"

And then the Hunter stormed off. Cayde looked like he meant to follow. Veera grabbed his arm.

"What is  _her_  problem? Is she planning a raid, too? I don't want to step on any toes…"

Azra was long gone. Sundance relayed a message from Spark saying that they would catch up in Cayde's room later. Obviously they were both a bit shaken.

* * *

The Hunter Vanguard settled back onto the bench with a sigh. "Tell me, you Warlock types always do your reading homework. Who was on the original V-O-G fireteam?"

Veera counted off on her fingers. "A Titan, a Warlock, and two Hunters. The fireteam was led by the Striker Kabr, who 'fought the Vex alone' and died in the Vault. The Warlock was a little-known Sunsinger named Praedyth. And the two Hunters were a Nightstalker named Pahanin, who was the only survivor, and…"

 _Bingo_. Veera's eyebrows furrowed and she looked in the direction the Hunter had left. Puzzle pieces clicked together. Cayde slouched even more in his seat (if that was possible) and finished the sentence for her.

"And Azra Jax, Arcstrider, and now the  _second_  confirmed escapee of the Vault of Glass. Six decades late, but still."

* * *

May 10, 2950, 13:28, the Last City

Cayde paused before the door and took a deep breath. Honestly, he didn't know what to expect.

Make no mistake, he was still incredibly, deliriously happy that Azra was back. He had to keep checking with Sundance to make sure he hadn't gone insane. It wasn't often the universe gave something back.

But he knew things wouldn't return to the way they were in those golden years, back before the Dare. Andal was gone and buried. Azra was obviously affected by whatever experiences she'd had. Maybe she'd bounce back, who knew? Maybe she'd go a little off-kilter like Pahanin did. Maybe she wouldn't be able to deal with it and she'd go get herself killed like Lush.

 _No way to tell 'till the tale's been told_ , Andal would say. He should really stop procrastinating and just open the dang door.

The hinges creaked as he pushed into the room. (On purpose. It was hard to sneak into a place when all the entrances were noisy. Cut down on pranks.)

Guardians could be a strange sort. They could live for hundreds of years, unfettered by age or disease. Their memories stayed sharp and fresh. In a lot of ways, they stood still while the rest of humanity changed and grew around them. Cayde found the familial love he felt for the Arcstrider hadn't diminished with time or distance. He'd changed, he knew. So had she. Yet beneath it all, the starlight-pine tinge of her Light was rock-steady. She could have left the Tower only yesterday.

Azra sat on the futon, staring at the wall. She hadn't cleaned the blood off of her hand yet. She was hunched, like she could hide in the gaudy yellow of her new cloak. She didn't look up as Cayde stepped forward and closed the door behind him. For a moment, as he crossed the room, she took a shuddering inhale, fists clenched, as if she was on the edge of tears, but after a moment her hands relaxed and she seemed to take a step back from the edge.

"Andal's gone," she croaked, disbelief still coloring her voice.

"Yeah," Cayde said, quiet.

"And Jaren. He's dead."

"Yes."

"And Eider."

"Y-"

"And Pahanin, and Mot Balek, and Thalor."

Cayde settled on the futon to her left. "It's been six decades, sweetheart. I don't know what you'd expect. It's a dangerous line of work."

She sighed, looking  _defeated_ in some fundamental way. "I guess I expected it to not… not be six decades. It coulda been two minutes I was in there. Or two centuries, I guess. Or two hundred thousand years. I just believed it when the orbits… It looked to be three weeks. I don't know. I was so happy 'cause I thought I actually made it, yeah? Got my hopes up."

Azra shook her head and seemed to re-focus. "Andal," she said. "How llll-" The L dragged on too long, cut off with a choked sort of swallow. Her shoulders hunched further. Cayde noted she was hyperventilating again. He grabbed the trash can, remembering last time. She hugged it like she was trying to keep herself from falling apart.

Cayde patted her back. It reminded him of the time that Shiro and Azra had come back from a scouting trip with acute radiation poisoning. They'd spent half the night puking their guts out while the older three Hunters had doted on them. (And then Andal had ripped Alaia Ruse a new one for sending them that deep into Manhattan.)

"When," Spark said, drawing him out of his memories. "How long ago did he die?" The Ghost spoke slowly, over-pronouncing his words like saying them took effort.

"'Bout eight years, give or take."

"It's just been you three?"

Cayde shrugged uncomfortably. It hadn't even really been  _them three_. You couldn't run many ops in a pack of two, and Cayde couldn't take field work. "Well, 'cause of the Dare, I got roped into Vanguarding after he… yeah."

Azra put the can down. Her expression was grim.

The best distraction from Andal he could offer wasn't much more pleasant. Cayde elbowed his companion. "Talk to me. Tell me what it was like in there. I can't fix nothing, but…"  _Talking can help. Tell me what we abandoned you to._

"I don't know if I _can_ ," Azra said.

"Then tell me what you learned, so I can keep that Warlock from rushing in blind. She'll want to talk to you anyway." Azra had been almost  _too_  good at compartmentalizing business and pleasure back in the day. Reminding her of the work yet to do (however much he didn't want her to have to do it) might-

Yep, Azra nodded and bit her lip. "I've… been thinking. About how to explain this. I'm no Warlock-"

"Neither am I," Cayde said.

Azra nodded. "Alright, alright. How can I… just… think about rivers." Her hands moved subtly while she talked. "Like, the current is time flowing, and along the banks is everything that happens. If you get on a boat and go downstream, it doesn't mean upstream doesn't exist anymore, it just means that you can't go there. Time… can be like a physical dimension. Out here it's how you move. If you take a piece of paper, like two dimensions, you can connect two points by sticking a pen or something through it. Going through dimension three. And in real space, you can move through the three dimensions by going through the fourth, time. Out here, you don't have the option. Time just goes. In there… you can fold the paper. Or the Vex can fold you.

"If you can say time is like a river, then the Vex are fishers. They stand outside the stream. They dig canals and make weirs and make the course as favorable for them as possible. They want to ensure their godhood through  _all_ time. I don't know… if they have it how they want it yet. If they ever will. If they already did. There are… too many dimensions that I don't have language for." She looked green, but she forged on.

"And maybe all the different universes and timelines are different streams. The Vex have forced them to converge, to come together. They want complete control over everything.  _Everything_. So the Vault is a lake where all the streams meet. The Vex in the Vault are the dam. Nothing passes without their consent. They pick out what they don't want or like and cast it out. They let what suits them pass on. When Kabr dies, what he does with his death, he shoved a stick in the works. Maybe we can break the dam. Maybe. I… it's hard to tell? They have control over ontology. Kabr could have played that against them. Or they could play him. And me. I…

"Maybe they decided my existence was best for their plans. I don't know. They certainly tried to kill me enough. They almost succeed… once, o-or…"

And there came the faltering speech of what Cayde was swiftly coming to recognize as an 'time attack'. He shoved the trashcan into her arms again and chattered barely-coherent assurances until her breathing slowed and her white-knuckled grip had relaxed. She was in a cold sweat.

She set the container down and shook her head in mute defeat. "I… I do not know why I escaped." She had the pronunciation of someone trying to overcome a speech impediment, every sound conscious and careful.

"You try Ikora's suggestion yet, sweetheart?"

She stared at her still-bloody hands. "No."

"Why not?"

With six decades of distance, he'd expect anyone to be a bit hesitant. She wasn't. It was almost like she had been plucked from yesteryear and dropped into today. The foundation was still there, even if it was fractured.

"I'm scared," Azra said. She sounded small, vulnerable. She chose to be vulnerable, without a second thought. "The Requiem… won't, might… ugh." She buried her face in her good hand. The bloody one hung limp. "I never like long and painful dying. The Requiem isn't in the best shape."

"So it might not do the job," Cayde supplied.

She nodded, eyes shining and sharp and still that gray of deep clouds over the ocean. "I don't trust… I got the Mythoclast, but l don't want to tempt fate and put that against my head, but…" Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. She grimaced. "I stood on the railing for fifteen… I stood on the railing. To jump. But I am too scared. I fall in the Vault. It's the  _worst_."

"You're having more trouble now than you were before," Cayde observed.

"Kept, keep, thinking of what-ifs. Doesn't do too well."

Well, trouble dying was something Cayde could easily solve. He stood and stretched. "C'mon, then. I'll take care of it."

Azra looked up at him, asking a question with her eyes. It made her look like Tevis.

He drew Ace with a flourish. Her eyes tracked the barrel. "Like you're not sober enough for next watch," he reassured her. Quick and painless.

Some of the tension drained from Azra's body. He'd won her over. "You'll get in trouble if you fire guns in the Tower," she murmured.

"Nah, I know a place."

* * *

Cayde entered first, automatically scanning the room for threats. Certain habits even eight years at the Tower couldn't erase. The gun range was mostly empty, save for two other Guardians. A Hunter leaned against the back wall while her Titan companion fired his hand cannon. The Titan was anticipating the recoil. It pushed his aim too high. But that was  _his_  problem, not Cayde's.

Resting a hand on the grip of his own cannon wasn't necessary, but it at least showed the Hunter in the room that he meant business. "Hey, clear out. Range C has some space. I need the room." The two Guardians looked at the Hunter Vanguard, then his companion half-hidden behind him, then left with no protest. Pulling rank was one of the few benefits of the Vanguard gig and one Cayde usually enjoyed exercising. Today there were other things to focus on.

He lifted the bar and bowed Azra through like a gentleman. Her face was an apprehensive grimace as she passed over the line to the live part of the range. She hesitated on the border.

* * *

Azra still found herself paralyzed for a moment. Spark kept telling her everything would be okay, but she didn't  _know_. However horrible it had been down in the Vault, infinite looping and re-looping misery, at least she'd known the whole of it. Here, every step and every breath was a foray into the unknown.

She really hoped this worked. She had missed hope, but it still hurt. There was helplessness in it. And there too was uncertainty.

Still, Azra would not have gotten this far in life if she hadn't learned how to tell her brain to shut up. She managed to shove aside the mismatched calculations and the incomprehensible processes and the instincts that told her that  _something is not right_  and forced her body to move.

She walked down the range. It was newly refurbished- not a single tile was familiar. Maybe not newly refurbished.  _The ceiling is stained dirty around the air vents. Bullet holes pockmark the floor and walls._

 _She comes to the_  center and turned.

Cayde pulled the Ace.

* * *

_And she saw Cayde lowering his gun at her. She opened her mouth to tell him_ no, it's too Dark _, that she'd take the heal on this one, as painful as it was. A rez might be too difficult. But her legs gave out. And a shot echoed in the cave._

* * *

He watched as suddenly her demeanor changed. All the weight went to the balls of her feet, her hand clenched white-knuckled on the grip of her singular knife. Her eyes took on a terrified cast. She shifted, just slightly, shoulder turning towards the threat (him), feet poised to run.

Cayde lowered the Ace. Azra didn't relax. Her eyes had a faraway look. They focused on him suddenly as he vaulted the counter.

As he got closer, he noted that she was trembling like a leaf. Goosebumps stood out on every bit of exposed skin.

"Hey," Cayde said softly. He put his hand on her shoulder. Her eyes showed blind panic and confusion and hesitancy. At least she didn't flinch.

"It's all gonna be fine. It'll be quick and painless as can be, but I'm not gonna do it 'till you're ready. You trust me, right?"

* * *

_Andal's Light settled, and Azra did her best to follow suit. "There's a lot more to pack than just physical skill," Andal explained, "Skill can be taught. Talent's only as good as you make it. Far, far more important is how you work with a team." He reached out to adjust her blindfold. "Can I trust you?"_

* * *

For a long moment, Azra didn't know where she was, or when she was. Was she sitting blindfolded on a couch, the thumping baseline of the music sounding in her chest? Was she on a new-old gun range, with Cayde grasping her shoulder?

Was she in the cold, dark tunnel that haunted the back of her mind, too caught up in memories and premonitions to see the danger lurking around the next corner?

The two Gunslingers had asked about trust. What was she supposed to say?

She closed her eyes, for once not really wanting the superposition to collapse. The taste of salt sweat and smoke lingered on her tongue. "Yes. You can. Or I do. Whichever one you are."

"You're not making a whole lotta sense," Cayde said.

"Neither are you." The truth. Nothing was making sense.

He sighed and took a step back. "I'm no firing squad. You call it."

* * *

_Andal grabbed Azra's arm and dragged the Kinderguardian out of range, just as Cayde demanded Tevis_ reach for it _. Tevis grabbed his knife and disappeared. The Exo drew and fired his hand cannon in the space of a heartbeat. The shot echoed off the buildings, turning the heads of nearby Guardians._

* * *

Breath whistled out between her teeth. She gathered her courage and opened her eyes, looking Cayde straight in the optics.

The word came without her conscious consent, but she was ready in any case. "Draw."

Then, nothing.

* * *

_You walk._

_You don't know where you're walking to, or from. You don't know how you're walking- legs aren't quite a_ thing _right now. You don't know why you are here or when here is, or even really who you are._

_There's just this: you are you, and you walk. And in a way, you are walking, and the walking is you, meshed in some recursive definitive loop, balanced and resonant._

_You do not worry if you are moving forward or not. There is no place you can see to move. No forward or backwards. Just movement. It feels good to forge on, simply right in some primal, basic manner._

_There is something in your chest tethering you to distant reality. You relax, comforted in the knowledge that you will not fall. The tether is also the ground beneath your feet, splitting the void in half, above and below. But here the tether is at its end, the drop-off is before you. You realize you have been walking here this entire time, along the edge._

_With this distinction, above and below, division here but none there, the world pulls itself into violet-blue focus. A deep sense of calm suffuses you. If you stepped across the boundary, over the edge, you could rest…_

" _Are you really okay with this?" someone asks._

_That's novel, having something other than yourself exist. They are familiar and comforting, like the woodsmoke smell of camp blankets. You can't really see them. They're just there._

" _You have to go back," they insist._

_That's not usually up to you, is it? The tether tugs in your chest, right where the pain of loneliness should be. It's weaker than usual._

" _This time is different."_

 _Why? Memories from the other side- the_ other _other side, are muzzy and blotted, like watercolor soaked and dripping. Touching them is painful. Even your name seems out of reach. You think you might rather stay here, in the dark comfort. The purple bolsters you, lifts you up and makes you strong. You like it._

" _It's been so long," the Other says._

_It's been no time at all._

" _I know you've lost some things, things you might find here, but you're leaving so much behind, too."_

That _galvanizes you. The memories are like broken glass, but you clutch at them anyway. Tevis. Cayde. Shiro. Hell, even Zavala and Ikora. You got them back. You lost them like you lost the sun and the stars but you dragged yourself forward and_ you got them back _. Not everything could be salvaged, but…_

" _How?" You ask. How do you go back. You want to see them._

_The Other smiles (it strikes you with nostalgia), and they hold out their hand. Fire blooms in their palm, bright and yellow-orange, driving back the deep purple._

" _It's just a short walk to the shore."_

_Short, but almost insurmountable. You- both of you- are the purple dusk. The gold is antithesis and untouchable. Even more, the gold is Light and linearity and there are still chains of Darkness on your soul._

" _Let that die," the Other says. "You don't need it anymore."_

_Part of you winces, covering your wounds and weaknesses. It is a tool, half burned into you and half stolen, a way of understanding and a lens that let you see clearly. It made, and in some way still does make and will make the difference between existence and oblivion. You want to cling to it. You need it if you're going to…_

" _It will never be gone," the Other insists. That's the truth, the converse-pair to 'Everything dies eventually' – 'Nothing is ever really gone'. "But it won't let go of you until you let go of it."_

_This place is sacrifice. To go back, to hold on to the truth of that world in the flame, you'll have to release the truth of the last one. You're scared, so scared, but you've mastered fear and you strip it away without reluctance. You shed it like an old skin. You want to be reborn new and whole._

_The Other's Light grows fond and proud. You reach towards their fire again. You still can't touch it. It is life. You're dead. There's no way for you alone to fix that._

_Yet in reaching out you find_ him _. Your Ghost. He's searching desperately, calling your name over and over, and you realize the Void has been echoing with the sound of it this whole time._

_Azra Jax. Your name is Azra Jax._

_Spark is the is the bridge, the short jump between death and life, all crackling, flowing energy, and you have the same forgotten revelation you've had thousands of times now:_

" _Oh,_  this _is why I called him Spark."_

_You reach out and his Light hooks onto yours, cradling and nagging and pulling at you. The shock travels up your arm, pain and energy pushing back the Void._

_The bonfire is backwards and behind and all it takes is one step back from the edge to become engulfed by it. The flames crackle around your soul._

_The Other takes a step back as well, mirroring you. You realize they've been drifting off the edge, over the untethered Void. "Take care of yourself, Jax," they say._

_As the fire flares, it casts just enough light to make him out. He smiles, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling in that old, familiar way. He waves you on._

* * *

Azra woke with Andal's name on her lips, and she didn't know why.

Relief rushed through her- no, through Spark, as she sat up. She felt… fine. A bit dizzy. It faded as she dragged herself back to full consciousness, like it usually did.

Spark scanned her, urgently, buzzing around her head like a fly. Then he rammed himself into Azra's collarbone, wishing that he could have arms to hold her and know that she was real and safe. Azra's hands came up to cradle him instead.

"You gave us quite the scare, there," Cayde drawled. He was crouched next to Azra. He seemed well enough himself. "I thought your Ghost was going to spin his shell off."

"But you were  _supposed_  to shoot me," Azra complained. "I don't get it?"

"I couldn't find you," Spark cried. He teleported free of her grip and scanned her again. Everything was as it should be.

Azra shooshed him. "You found me. I'm here, aren't I?"

Cayde straightened back to a standing position and held out a hand to help Azra up. "Took you long enough, though. Do you remember anything?"

She grabbed his hand and let herself be hauled to her feet. "…No." She didn't. Still, tears prickled the corners of her eyes. Someone had told her… something.

"So, did it work?"

Azra took a deep breath and looked around again. The difference was immediately obvious in the fact that it wasn't obvious. Things slotted neatly into place. (Ikora would be smug when she found out she was right). "Everything seems to be in order, but this is all still very… surreal." She blinked up at the lights and the clean, dry, squared-off ceiling. The air smelled slightly stale, but it was pleasantly cool and dry against her skin.

Surreal in its oddity, not its coherency. The facts added up just fine. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms like it could help her adjust to the linear restriction. It was like shifting into Drive after drifting around on Neutral. "It's… it's gonna take some time. It's a lot to process."

She frowned. The present was fine, and the past, up to a certain point, but the memories of the Vault would just not sort themselves out. There was no beginning or end to them. They weighed heavy in her estimations, heavy enough to overshadow everything else. The more she pulled at them the deeper they became until she was looking into an infinite abyss.

She chose not to engage. Not now. "Let's go outside," Azra suggested. "How long do you have off?"

Cayde took the lead. "Eh, a few more hours, but frankly the day's been pretty boring. I can scoot by longer."

"And how long until Shiro and Tevis are expected back?" She asked.

"At least twenty hours for Shiro. Longer for Tev. Why?"

Azra didn't answer. Cayde made to turn right, but Azra grabbed his arm and went left instead. She knew where she was going. From the look on his face, he did too.

The courtyard was small, full of the smell of growing things baking in the sun. There was a row of plaques on the ground. Azra read the names- Saint-14, the blank plate where Osiris's name should have been, and then on to the Hunters- Tallulah Fairwind, Caliban-8, Longstreet, Cherib-22, Ainsel Leagh, Theron-5, Alaia Ruse, Kauko Swiftriver… Andal Brask. Two of the Hunters (Longstreet and Ainsel, and Saint-14 besides,) had words 'in thanks of service'. That meant they got out alive by winning a Dare. The rest of them were 'in memory of' and had death dates. The Hunter Vanguard gig was not a safe one.

"He's not really  _here_ , is he?" Azra asked. Everyone believed different things, but this was clearly not a suitable burial site for a Hunter, stone and shiny gold and solemnity.

"The plaque's here, but we scattered his ashes by the Cave," Cayde reassured. She relaxed a bit at that. "Zavala wanted him interned. Guess he thought it would be an honor. We all shut that down pretty quick."

"I can imagine Tevis getting pretty pissed," Azra ventured.

"Tevis restrained himself. He only  _threatened_  to cut Zavala's head off. Shiro might have holes in a few people, but they deserved it."

"And you?" Azra asked.

Cayde shoved his free hand in his pocket and stared at the plaque. "I just tried to do what Andal would have wanted. Still try."

"Who killed him?" Azra asked. The words sounded hollow. She felt hollow. She tried to muster up a bit of fire for her speech but found her soul still cold.

"I'm not gonna tell you," Cayde responded. Their arms were still linked at the elbows. He pulled her a bit closer when she stiffened.

"Why not?"

"It's already taken care of," he insisted.

She glared at him. "That's not an  _answer_ , Cayde."

"How about because I know you, and I know you'll throw yourself into the fires of hell if you think there's even a scrap of justice to be passed. And I don't know if you've realized this, but we already lost you one time. It was hard on us, too. It's not happening again any time soon, not on my watch."

"I'll just look in the City Archives-" Azra started.

"Locked 'em."

There was the fire. Azra found some shreds of bitterness to put into her glare.

"You'll understand some day. I just got you back, I don't need you doing anything reckless."

Azra let her shoulders drop in defeat. She knew he was right. In this state, she wouldn't get far in the name of revenge. She'd get herself killed. (Take care of yourself, Jax).

"Alright," she croaked. She looked up at the sky. There was a good chance of rain in the next half-hour. She breathed in the humid air, breathed out, letting the pain subside for now.

"I req'd a Sparrow and a better Jumpship," she announced.

"You're going?" Cayde asked.

Azra nodded. Pressed close, Cayde's Light was easy to read. He was sad, still. Hurt. He thought she'd stay. He didn't want to let her go. Unfortunately for him, staying just was not in the cards.

"The other two haven't been keeping camp, recent," Cayde said.

Azra shrugged. "I was just going to go check on some old caches. See if any are still there. I can't just sit around here waiting."

"You realize Tevis and Shiro will  _literally_  kill me if they find you got back, but I let you go and get yourself offed again."

"S'not like I'm hunting a Kell or anything." Cayde was not satisfied. Luckily, Azra knew her trump card. "You're just gonna have to trust me," she said.

Cayde held her gaze for a long moment. She both saw and felt the moment he accepted it. "…Fine, but you're staying on the comms."

"Course."

" _And_  the video feed."

"You want to see where I hid my stuff?" She half-joked.

"I want to make sure you don't get  _killed_."

She leaned back into his side. She didn't  _want_  to leave him alone and worried, yet the idea of staying in civilization for another day repulsed her.  _How unfair,_  she mused,  _that I'm tied here still._  Azra was not made for the City. She'd protect it for the people in it, but its noise filled the air and its towers blocked out the sky.

"Don't sleep alone," Cayde reminded her.

She nodded. "I'll crash in the Cave if I have to." No safe camp out there for her. She hadn't checked if D.E.C. was still active, but she didn't have their comm link anyway…

"The futon is always open," Cayde offered.

"I never slept sound in the City 'less I was exhausted."

"You _look_  exhausted."

"It's been a few days."

Silence settled. Spark sent ahead for the jumpship.

After a moment, Cayde pulled her close. "I  _missed_  you," he whispered in her ear.

"Me too," Azra whispered back. His cloak smelled of him, mostly, but a faint trace of Andal's scent still clung to the fabric.

"Stay safe," he said, finally letting her go.

"But not  _too_ safe," Azra finished. An old Hunter farewell. Engines thrummed as the ship pulled in close.

 _Ready for transmat?_  Spark asked. Azra nodded.

"You get yourself in trouble out there, I  _will_  sicc every Hunter in existence on you!" Cayde called over the dull roar. "And you will be super embarrassed!"

"Alright,  _dad!_ " Azra shot back. Then with a rush, she was siting in a pilot's chair.

"Setting a course for Io," Spark reported.

"Can't get rid of me  _that_  easily," Cayde jibed over the comms.

"Traveler above, Cayde, don't distract me while I'm flying."


	22. What Do I Do

Shadows settle on the place that you left  
Our minds are troubled by the emptiness  
Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time  
From the perfect start to the finish line

Daughter – Youth

* * *

May 11, 2950, 16:56; Rocky Mountains, Earth

Io, then Ganymede, then Mercury, and then Azra had  _wanted_  to go to Mars, but Cayde insisted Freehold was still a hotzone. The Cabal sure were stubborn (and 'you've been fighting for six decades' wouldn't mean anything to the Virgo Prohibition).

So Azra returned to Earth. To be honest, her haul was discouraging. All of her Io caches had been ransacked. She'd scavenged a few from Ganymede, but the shifting ice had entombed the rest. Mercury had been her most profitable excursion, but even then…

Her cloak was red, bright red, to stand out against the golden sands and Radiolaria. It had been a gift from a Sunbreaker. It didn't suit Earth's wilds, but that's why she'd left it on Mercury. Still, it was hers. She'd look like a flashy fool, but she wouldn't be mistaken for a Kinderguardian.

She kicked around the Rockies for a few hours. The Fallen never had an established presence there, beyond the parties sent to kill refugees and harass Guardians. They were thieves and pirates, obsessed with technology and supplies, not pristine wilderness. She  _had_  left several caches here (it was close to an old campsite), but in truth she was just burning time. Time until Shiro got back, or Cayde finally went to sleep, or…  _something._

It was funny how after so long alone in the Vault, and the weeks afterwards working tirelessly to get back, how desperately she craved privacy now. She'd struggled very hard to get back to Cayde, but just a day afterwards, his near-constant presence on the comms was grating. She wanted time to process alone. Loneliness was what she was used to now; her packmate's watchfulness made her feel paranoid.

It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was true.

"Just… five friggin' minutes," she bargained. It had rained earlier in the day here, but the sky was clearing now. Everything was still damp. She stopped at the bank of a mountain stream, looking up through the break in the trees. Turkey vultures pinwheeled in the sky above, a clear sign that no Fallen were in the area. "Radar's clear. The Light's good. I've got four whole guns now." Her fingers itched to fight, to do  _something_.

Cayde still would have none of it. "You agreed to stay on the comms. I'm not-"

"If I can't handle myself in an empty forest for five minutes, you've got other things to worry about."

"You never know what's out there."

Azra threw up her hands. Her patience had run thin hours ago. "Christ! If a Fallen comes out of nowhere and shanks me, Spark can give me a rez! Or I'll just shoot it, with my guns!"

"I don't-"

Yeah, this wasn't happening.  _Cut the feed_ , Azra commanded. Spark did. Silence reigned, though Azra could barely hear the wind in the trees over her own ragged breathing. Anger only continued to build in her chest. Andal had told her once that anger was a good motivator, that it drove you to correct injustice and avenge wrongdoing.

She was angry now, but what was there to do with it? There was nothing she could hurt or kill to make any of this better.

Golden-orange flames flickered over her skin. It sought an outlet. She forced the fire to her hand, brandishing the Gun to the sky above. She fired it once in the air, then again. The rush was gripping and dazzling, just like it should have been. The fire wielded her as much as she wielded it. Pulling the trigger hurt, but it was a clean pain, a simple one. Things like guilt and regret could muddle a person, but anger cut through everything. It burned all complications to the ground.

Azra pulled the trigger a third time, but she'd lost her focus. The next thing she knew, her hand and arm were screaming in pain and her ears were ringing. The Gun had exploded instead of firing. Coals scattered on the ground, hissing in the damp pine needles.

Azra was no stranger to pain. The agony in her hand and wrist was actually comforting, in a way. She understood, and in truth expected, a world where things hurt you. Pattering around the Tower with no guns and no danger seemed fake. This was the real world, outside the walls, where the threats were tangible and physical.

She bent double around her burned limb, teeth clenched to stop a pained cry from sounding. Her body still flickered with golden fire fueled by her helpless anger. Fuck the universe, fuck Cayde for his secrets, fuck Andal for going off and getting himself killed, fuck the Vex and the Vault and their damn time-tricks that had kept her away.

What was next? Would Azra curse Kabr for planning the doomed mission? Would she curse herself for signing on?

She wanted to  _do_  something, not just sit here in impotent rage, but there was nothing,  _nothing_  she could do to alter a past she wasn't present for. There was no way to take revenge against an entire race of beings… and she'd never been a big one for revenge in the first place. It never fixed anything, it just left you colder.

So instead she ripped a small tree from the ground. The strained pull in her muscles was good, the searing pain in her still-burned hand was good. She yelled and crowed defiance at the dangers hidden in the woods. She swung the tree by its trunk, reveling in the rush of Light and adrenaline and the pumping blood that reaffirmed she was still living.

She took her anger out, snapping the trunk, tearing off branches, and relished the feeling of things splintering under her hands.

But she was never good at being angry. The fire burned itself out, and Azra looked around to find a small clearing of destroyed trees and still no Andal.

Azra lowered herself unsteadily to the ground. The shock of it hit her again all at once. Andal Brask, the man she'd known her entire life, who'd taught her the Gun, who'd set her up on strikes to give her experience and recognition, who'd had to work so hard to not protect her from the dangers of the world, yet was always, always there to turn back to, was gone. 'Always' had run out. He just wasn't there anymore.

"What do I do?" Azra asked.

Spark didn't say anything. Instead, he drew their thoughts back to Cayde, to Shiro and Tevis.  _You're not alone_ , Spark pointed out.

* * *

_And standing there, with the Void still clinging to her skin like a sheet of ice, she accepted it. Everyone was going to die, eventually. She couldn't fight that. She could fight for their happiness, for their lifespans, but no matter how hard she worked, she could not prevent them from dying. All she could say was_ tomorrow, not today _._

_That fact was stronger than she was. But some stubborn part of her refused to let it beat her. She nodded at the bodies on the ground, accepted their deaths, and turned a blind eye towards that tomorrow._

* * *

"Andal's gone," Spark said. "You can't change that. That's not how the world works anymore. The past is set. The only thing you can do is make a better future."

That's not how the world works  _anymore_ , Spark had said. But it  _used_  to work like that. A dangerous, dangerous thought formed in Azra's head.

"No." Spark said.

But…

"Absolutely not."

A plan was coming together. It  _could_  work. Azra nodded thoughtfully. "We could arrange things so there's no paradox. Tell Andal to take a vacation to the Reef or something. Make some false records."

"I don't care about  _paradoxes_!" Spark yelled in sudden fierceness. "You're not going back in there again! Not alone!"

But it was perfect. She could fix everything!

"Or you could come out sixty  _more_  years into the future and Cayde will be dead, too! Or sixty thousand years, and Humanity might be gone! Or… or you'll  _die_." Spark couldn't get over the feelings of uselessness that plagued him in the Vault. Everything a Ghost was supposed to do- to guide, to heal, to encourage- he'd found himself incapable of so far from the Light.

Azra stood, clicking the safety off her hand cannon.

"No. Not like this." But Spark had precious few tools to make her stop. He couldn't physically hold her back, all he could do was talk and... "If you go… I'm. I'm not going to go with you," he gasped.

Azra froze.

"You're not thinking straight," he said. "You don't see everything you still stand to lose. So you're  _going_  to lose me if you go."

"Spark…"

"No. I'm not enabling this." He trembled on unsteady lifters. "Don't make me leave. Please." He couldn't just let her walk back into hell.

His fear and guilt were infectious. Azra sat back down.

"I don't want to hurt you," Spark said, "but that would hurt you more. You know that."

Azra drew a shuddering breath around the hollowness in her chest and tried very hard not to resent her Ghost.

The feed picked that moment to sputter to life again. "Alright," Cayde announced, "I gave you your five minutes, but- whoa. What happened here?"

Azra looked around at the splintered wreckage. "I… got angry, I guess."

"Your Golden Gun exploded on you again, didn't it."

Azra would have gotten offended (even just pretend offense), but she didn't have the emotional energy. The laugh came out as more of a wheeze. "I'm not good at the Solar stuff, Cayde. You know that."

"We never had that talk," Cayde said.

There was silence for a long moment. Spark gave a mental nudge.

Azra relented. "I…" But what was there to say?

"You… should head back," Cayde said. "Shiro's made good time. And Tevis' mission's been… cut short. They'll be here in just a few hours."

Azra eyed the splintered trees and the singed circle on the ground from her Solar explosion. "One more cache," she said.

* * *

In hindsight, 'one more cache' hadn't been the best idea, with all the noise Azra had been making. A lone Guardian snooping around the Rockies was a very tempting target for the House of Devils. Her sight and sense were sharp and tuned to her surroundings, but the Fallen still saw her before she saw them. Stupid red cloak.

"I can call backup," Cayde offered as the sound of Skiff engines rumbled overhead.

Azra scanned the trees, eyes quickly finding the Captain among the Fallen crew. No Servitors, no Barons. Shanks and Dregs and Vandals and if the ozone smell on the air was to be believed, some cloaked Marauders.

"Would anyone actually get here in time?" Azra asked. Rhetorical question, the answer was obviously 'no'. The Fallen were completing their perimeter now, closing off her potential avenues of escape. She hadn't planned on running, anyway. "I got this."

She pulled the sidearm and a knife. The dense trees didn't offer the luxury of range.

The Captain braced itself and let loose with its Scorch Cannon. She ducked easily under the blast. The projectile went skipping down the mountain slope. Azra sensed more than heard two Fallen behind her. She half-rose and spun quickly, catching the left one with the backhand-held blade while simultaneously aiming the sidearm up to the other. Two shots entered its skull from below, sending half-gaseous Ether splattering everywhere. She jerked the knife out of the first one (which fell to the ground) and planted a foot on its chest.

Eyesight was a commodity in a fight like this. You couldn't see everything. Azra didn't bother looking to line up the final blow on the wounded Fallen; she was too busy tracking the movement of another Vandal. She raised the knife in her left hand while her right pulled the trigger twice. The gun barked. The knife spun silent and deadly through the air, catching the Vandal in the neck.

She was wide-open for another Scorch Cannon shot. Azra dodged right and shot rapid-fire at a small pack of Shanks, causing a neat one-two-three of explosions. She dove forward to put a tree between her and the Captain while she reloaded. The second knife was in her hand quick as thought, which was good because a Marauder was on her.

_Idiot_ , she scolded herself as it lunged with its sword.  _Use your ears, Jax. Shock Blades hum, even in cloak_. The Marauder was already dead, of course, three neat shots through the head. She was angry because it had closed distance without her knowledge. Sloppy. Azra aimed at a Shank behind the Fallen's form as it crumpled to the ground. She pulled the trigger, but no force pushed back on her harm. The Requiem had jammed. Azra swore out loud and threw the knife instead. The Shank went down, but three Dregs filled the space behind it. Azra stood with nothing but a useless gun. The Captain shrieked orders (something about flanking and a second squad? Azra's Elliknsi was very rusty). She dimly heard Cayde swear over the comms-

She reached for the Arc and it hit her with a shock like falling through ice. She flicked her wrist and closed her fingers around the Staff as it formed. Two steps, sweeping the Staff over her head to let more of its length play out, then a pivot and a vicious roundhouse that scattered the Dregs into sparks. She followed through on the motion, passing the Staff to her left hand and bracing with her right. Another Marauder had tried to sneak up behind her. It took a spear-end in the gut and resolved itself into ashes as well. Azra pivoted again and twirled the Staff just in time to block another Scorch Cannon shot (that Captain was starting to get annoying).

Azra really didn't  _decide_  anything- the merging of Arc and her willpower made her actions too fast for thought. Some vague impression of the Captain being too far away for melee, judging the position of the other Fallen through her Lightsense, how they'd get to the Captain's position just as she would if she made a break for it, and her body was already moving. The momentum of the spinning Staff transitioned seamlessly as she turned herself, leaping sideways to line up the shot. Centrifugal force pulled at her fingertips, pulled at the Arc and her weapon, and she used it to gather the energy and lob it at the large Fallen.

It took a lot out of her, but the Captain gurgled and died as the messy ball lightning collided with its shields. Azra's heart beat triple-time in her chest. One more neat sweep to mop up a Vandal and then the next closest Fallen was thirty meters away.

Normally, not an issue. But Azra was poorly fed and it had been almost five days now since she'd last slept. She had stamina enough to cross the space, enough to do some serious damage, but not enough to deal with all of the Fallen. Even so, she  _could_  have done it. Once she'd swept up the majority, she could have finished off the rest with grenades or good old-fashioned fisticuffs. Even if they overwhelmed her, it wasn't Dark here. She might die, but she'd live another day.

But Cayde was watching, and Andal had told her to look after herself.

She stilled her feet and drew in a breath. The Void was there, just like the Arc was, filling space as she made it. A mental push and the Staff slid into a new shape- curved, shimmering, yet still crackling with death. Gravity weighed heavy on her shoulders like a weighted mantle.

She gave enough. Just enough to slow the Fallen. Tevis would have talked smack about it, but she was tired. She only needed a few seconds.

Guns two and three were sniper rifles- overkill for the small Fallen before her. Spark transmatted her Mythoclast straight into her arms. The Fallen were still slow and disoriented as her Tether sapped their energy (and was that electricity playing along the strings?) The gun shuddered in her hands as she fired. The Fallen died. The magazine ran dry and the fire stopped, and there was eerie silence in the glade.

"Wow," Cayde said. "The hell is that thing? It shreds."

Azra flipped out the magazine and loaded a new one. "Spark calls it a Mythoclast. Bit of stolen Vex tech. Fusion rifle."

"How's it got no charge time with a punch like that?"

"It's got a charge time; it just happens  _before_  you pull the trigger." Azra scanned the forest through the scope of the rifle. The only movement was caused by the wind. Lightsense confirmed; just trees.

"How's it know when?"

Azra shrugged. "It's a loop. Firing it sends back instructions that cause it to fire. The trigger's just an anchor."

There was a beat of silence. Then, "What?"

She sighed and let the muzzle drop. "Do you actually want me to explain it to you, or can I say 'Vex time bullshit'?"

"What I  _really_  want you to do is get your butt over here. Shiro will be back within the hour."

Azra found herself strangely apprehensive. Why? She'd only seen him a few weeks ago…

_This will be tough_ , Spark thought.  _But this is what we fought for, remember?_

Azra looked down to find her hands already clearing the Requiem's jam. Some things never faded. "Yeah," she said. "I'll head back."

* * *

May 11, 2950, 17:42; The Last City, Earth

The Bladedancer was already a bit pissed off before Cayde slung an arm over his shoulders and started laying on the schmooze. Straight back from a week-long run in Old Russia, and the Vanguard wanted to head down Cityside to a ramen shop. His only explanation was "Shiro buddy, there's something you gotta see."

Shiro was banged-up and tired. He'd hauled his butt to get out of his position when Cayde had called. Now the Gunslinger was laying it on suspiciously thick. "If you recalled me here from the middle of a patrol just to show me another weird gun someone brought back-" Shiro warned.

"No no, you'll like this. I promise. But uh…" Cayde turned from eager to cautious in a second, suddenly in front of Shiro with his hands up defensively. "Take it easy, okay? It's been a long time. For all of us."

Shiro snorted and pushed past Cayde, through the door. He was used to taking in scenes at a glance. The ramen shop wasn't very busy right now. In fact, there was only one person inside: a Human woman sitting with her back to the far wall. A Hunter with a bright red cloak. Her hood was pushed back. The gray eyes were familiar.

Shiro immediately turned and left the room. Cayde grabbed his arm, and Shiro slapped him.

"No. Fuck you." How  _dare_  Cayde pull some bullshit like this. They all missed Andal and Azra, but they were both  _gone._ Pranks and misdirections and tricks would not bring them back.

"Shiro, it's not a joke-"

"Then you're a fool." That Guardian looked like her, but-

"Shiro!" And the voice was the same, too. But it wasn't Azra. It couldn't be Arza.

If that was Azra, it meant that she was still alive.

That she'd been alive all these years.

That either she'd left them (impossible), or that they'd abandoned her (unthinkable).

That they'd left her to rot in the Vault, alone.

That  _Shiro_  had left her to rot.

He'd cast the tiebreaker vote, hadn't he? To send no search parties. There was no way she could have survived.

The woman grabbed his wrist. Her hand was cold. Her hands were always cold.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she pleaded. There were tears in her eyes. "It's  _my_  fault. I knew the Vault run was risky. I didn't think-"

Her Light was so familiar. Shiro found himself deliriously thinking, ' _If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably_  is  _Azra Jax'_.

Shiro engulfed her in a hug.

Exos didn't make tears, but they could still cry.

* * *

May 11, 2950, 19:11; The Last City, Earth

_One down, one to go,_  Cayde mused. Halfway done already! This would be a piece of cake.

Who was he kidding, Tevis was going to be the hard one. The Nightstalker came straight from the Hangar and brushed past Cayde without a word. The Vanguard had to run to catch up.

"Tevis. So, uh, something's happened…"

"Uh-huh."

"No, dude. Stop walking."

Tevis stopped and turned his eyes towards Cayde without actually looking at him. Cayde hated when he did that. Made one feel like a ghost.

"Listen, I know you're upset about Rajj, but—" Bringing up the dead protégé probably hadn't been the best course of action. Tevis' gaze focused on him. The green eyes were like brittle ice.

The Nightstalker turned away and began walking again.

Cayde played the trump card. "Azra's alive."

"Sure she is."

"Lemme rephrase. Azra's alive, and she's in the ramen shop waiting for us."

"Har."

Cayde grabbed his shoulder, forcing the other Hunter to stop. "Dammit Larsen, would you look at me?"

Tevis shrugged him off. "I've got no interest in digging up ghosts, Cayde. 'Specially not tonight." He'd just retrieved Rajj's body, after all. His hands still smelled like death.

"No ghost. Well, yes, Ghost with a capitol G, but… Gah!" Cayde grabbed Tevis' arm, firm this time. "You are coming to the ramen shop. Or do I have to order you?" A hollow threat. They both knew Cayde would never do it, and Tevis wouldn't listen if he didn't want to.

The Nighstalker caved anyway after a moment of tense silence. "Fine. I'll go. Just don't use such a terrible excuse next time."

"Next time, I won't have to."

* * *

Cayde lead Tevis to the back room. The other two had ordered without him (the jerks). Shiro was happily eating away. Azra had given up on remembering chopsticks and was poking the noodles with a fork.

Tevis entered behind him. Azra looked up, face curiously blank. The fork trembled in her hand.

The Nightstalker just stood there for a few seconds.  _Okay_. When the world turned upside-down on you, you went back to the facts and worked your way from there.

Was he dreaming? No. Dreams never smelled like ramen and old pipe smoke. This was the real world.

So, was this really Azra? Her face said yes. Her Light said yes. She was different in some unquantifiable way, but also achingly familiar. Cayde seemed convinced. So did Shiro. For all the insults they threw at each other, he knew neither of them were fools.

So this was real life, and Azra was alive and sitting in front of him. Which logically lead to the conclusion that she had been alive somewhere for the past six decades.

"What happened?" He asked. As in  _why were you gone so long_. As in  _why do you feel like despair and cold mist now_.

Her eyes turned back to the ramen. "I fell off a cliff." Her voice spoke of horror. No control. No power.

"For fifty-seven years?"

"For eternity." She bowed her head over the bowl, either in shame or regret. Her voice cracked. Something in the Vault, then. Some time-shenaniganry or teleportation. But her hair was a different style and she wore all new gear. It had been some time for her, too.

Tevis dropped his pack at the door and moved to sit next to her.

"Christ, kiddo, I'm… I'm sorry." About her hands trembling in remembered horror. About being one of the reasons for that horror. After all, he'd defended the position for barring rescue parties from the Vault. They could have gotten her out.

She shook her head. "It was the right decision." She knew, then.

"Did they tell you?" That he'd made the call? About Andal's exhaustion, Cayde's stubbornness, Shiro's quiet grief?

"I guessed." All of that. She'd known them. Her face didn't speak of blame.

"Still." Still she sat there and wouldn't look up. Still Spark hid in the folds of her hood.

"No. You couldn't have saved me. You'd've been just as blind as we were. Given the two options… I'm glad you're still here." Imagine making it out, only to learn they'd died looking for her…

Tevis wasn't a touchy person, but he put an arm around her shoulders. He scrambled for something to say. Something to lighten the mood. He knew all too well that there was more than one way to fall.

"You'd've isn't a real word," he said gently.

She snorted, and the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Contractions are the language of the future. Get with the times, gramps."

"No. Contractions are two words. It's either you would've, or you'd have. No double-dipping."

"Coming from the guy who thinks 'feh' is a real word."

"Coming from the gal who thinks 'y'all'd've'f'I'd've makes sense."

Tears ran down her face, dripping into the soup. Azra dashed them away viciously.

Tevis squeezed her shoulder tighter, scooting his chair to get a better angle. Shiro pushed close on her other side. Cayde's presence was a warmth at all of their backs, blocking out the rest of the world.

Azra buried her face in her arms and  _sobbed_.

"You have no idea how  _hard_  it was." Her voice was like a bleeding wound. "I had no idea if I was ever going to see anything ever again. If I was going to see the sun or eat food. Not even that… I  _knew_  that I wasn't Every moment down there I knew I was doomed."

Cayde nudged her. "Hey, you didn't give up hope. Don't do it now."

"I didn't—for hope, you gotta have a future, a past. None of those were, are things. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that I kept going. Just… tautology. I did because being is doing and I was."

Cayde and Tevis made eye contact. Both were looking to the other for some kind of direction, but neither of them knew what to do. This was uncharted territory.

"… I think we could all use a drink," Cayde said.


	23. We Need to Talk

We'll be washed and buried one day, my girl  
And the time we were given will be left for the world  
The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague  
So let the memories be good for those who stay

Winter Winds - Mumford and Sons

* * *

_You are warm, which is strange. You are warm and sprawled out on your stomach. The ground seems to envelop you. It's soft. The air is stale and stagnant. But you're warm. It's strange, but you feel oddly at peace. You're… relaxed?_

_This is different. You should be cold and cramped and tense. But the warmth is nice. You should really decide soon if the oddness is going to be enough to make you wake up for real._

_Then, something filters down through the layers of consciousness: a bit of movement, the faintest whirr. The sound sets alarm bells jangling in your mind. It's high-pitched and mechanical. It's familiar._

_Gorgon._

* * *

There are some lessons the Vault does not give you an opportunity to learn. Some rules you must follow completely, at all times, because one slip-up is the difference between existence and oblivion. The Gorgon's Labyrinth leaves little margin for error. If one spots you, the only actions you can take are immediate, desperate violence, or… nothing. Either you kill the Gorgon, or you don't do anything at all, ever.

* * *

The fear was hot, like liquid metal, like burning Radiolaria. Azra's body moved on its own accord, following lessons beat into it over long infinities.

She reached for the Light and it burst into existence in her hand. That wasn't how it should have been, but the presence of the Light was a  _good_  thing and she didn't have time to think. She was acting purely on instinct now, hitting the floor shoulder-first and throwing her weight to roll back up on her feet. A half-twist and she-

She was milliseconds from pulling the trigger when her eyes focused on what she was aiming at. Shiro was half-sitting on the bed, looking bewildered and still mostly asleep. His optics flickered. The Gun flared in her hands and in her heart, the fear telling her to burn everything down and  _run, don't stop running_.

"Whoa hey, easy there!"

"Azra, calm down!"

She wasn't fully awake yet. Some dim recollection stayed her hand, but it was a dusty, ancient thing. Her instincts were all screaming. There was danger in this space, somewhere, but she couldn't find it. There was Light, reflecting confusion and panic around the room, but the barest traces of something more calm and solid remained. Something that shouldn't exist here. It had been lost.

Where was here, exactly?

The seconds ticked by and Azra's memory came trickling back. Slowly, painfully, she lowered her arms. Her heart still thudded loud in her hears. The Gun fell from her numb fingers and shattered into cinders.

The Light left and took the adrenaline with it. Azra slumped against the wall, her legs suddenly not up to the task of supporting her weight.

* * *

_"And look, you've spooked the Newbie," Shiro pointed out. Azra stood poised on the balls of her feet, one hand tight on the grip of her knife and the other at the hilt of her shock pistol. Her eyes flicked between Tevis, Cayde, the gun, and the Guardians who had stopped to look. She tensed warily as attention was focused on her, then forced herself to relax._

* * *

"Hey, Azra, you with me?" That was Cayde. Azra drew in a deep breath and nodded.

"Thought Shiro was a Gorgon," she mumbled.

Tevis and Shiro shot each other a look. Azra could feel their hackles still up. Hunters usually slept rough, but none of the Crew had a habit of waking up screaming. The Light in the room pulsed vibrant in her senses, sharp alarm biting through the mellow peace of sleep.

"What's a Gorgon?" Shiro asked.

"These Vex Harpies, in the Vault, that make you not exist if they spot you." The red spotlight glared in her mind's eye. She shuddered and pushed herself more upright.

Cayde was shocked. "They make you…"

"It's the AC," Tevis announced. "When the vents open up, it sounds a bit like a Harpy. I've always thought so, at least."

"Well, that solves that," Shiro said.

Azra trudged across the room and dropped her body into a chair. She couldn't calm the shaking in her hands.

"That really scared you," Cayde observed after a moment of silence.

Azra inspected her scarred fingers. "If a Gorgon sees you, man, that's  _it_. Not just death, not even final death. You just never existed."

"Where'd you learn that?"

Spark entered realspace and hovered low over her shoulder. "I hacked some confluxes in there. We've got a lot of data on the Vex," he bragged. "Not much of it makes sense now, but-"

"You hacked the Vault of Glass," Shiro stated in disbelief. "Vex keys are almost  _impossible_  to decode. It takes whole teams of Cryptarchs-"

Spark bobbed. "Out here, yes. In there? I could handle it. Time-encryptions aren't very difficult in a timeless place."

Azra wondered what hour it was. She'd slept, yet she was still half-numb with exhaustion. The Hunter looked to the window by the sink. It was shuttered. She was hit with a sudden wave of nostalgic frustration. This place was small, and square, and you couldn't even see the sky. It was like plugging your ears and going 'lalalala', but to the whole of existence. No rain, no wind, artificial air and fake wood. Azra rose abruptly, strode over to the counter, and threw open the shutters.

 _There we go._  It was dark out, but it wouldn't be for long. The air carried the scent of asphalt and diesel fumes, but it was dry. No rain any time soon.

Oh, how Azra had  _missed_  this. The sky, the last few evening stars twinkling in defiance of the approaching sun. The contrast between the warm air of the room and the cool fresh wafting in from the window. The Light. The Traveler glimmering above.

She didn't realize there were tears on her face until she tasted the salt. The room was filled with three people's expectant silence.

"I want to go  _home_ ," she finally managed.

"You  _are_  home," Cayde said.

 _You never had a 'home'_ , Spark thought.  _This is the most permanent place in your life and you hate it here. You leave as soon as you can._

Azra shook her head. "Home is coming back to camp to find Andal scribbling away on his notepad, or Tevis sharpening his knives, or you with your things everywhere because you can't find his deck of cards. I never cared where it was, just… with you, I felt safe. But now Andal's dead and you're stuck here, Cayde, and you've all spent twice as long with me dead than you did with me alive. And I  _know_  what's out there. I've never felt…" she searched for a word. "Smaller." So unsteady, unsafe.

Tevis sidled up beside her. "We're right here with you," he reassured.

She leaned back against the counter and reached for the Void. There was strength in death, yes, but-

"It won't be enough," Azra said. She looked Tevis right in the eye as she spoke. She didn't need a Vex system to calculate the probabilities. What all of them could throw at the Vault, it just wouldn't be enough.

* * *

May 12, 2950, 07:44 

Cayde bellyached, but he couldn't pass off any more obligations than he already had. Shiro offered to blow off his own schedule, but Azra insisted on not making things more complicated for him. He basically oversaw or ran most Fallen ops now. His contacts could be… touchy.

Tevis just looked her in the eye a moment, then said, "You, me. Old Detroit. Let's get you some better gear."

"Kay," was all Azra said. She was tired.

* * *

They spent a lot of time walking through burnt-out marshland. Even in daylight, Detroit was an eerie place. It was still one of Tevis' favorite haunts. He led the way on unmarked trails through the tall dead grass and blackened tree-husks, Azra one step behind. The river was a slow and stately thing on the horizon, shining in the sun. Across the way were the broken towers of Old Windsor.

They didn't say much as they scouted through the broken-down buildings. Even after centuries of exploration, only a fraction of the industrial sprawl had been mapped and properly looted. Even more poorly charted were the network of salt mines beneath the city. Those were full of Fallen and were too Vault-y for Azra's comfort, so the two Hunters stuck to the aboveground portions.

They found two sidearms, a hand cannon, a weird… something Banshee would have fun with (after Azra asked Tevis if Banshee was still alive (he was)), a pulse rifle, and a rocket launcher. Azra mourned her machine gun. They'd scavenged enough glimmer and spinmetal to commission a few nice things, but she'd need to save them for armor.

Morning turned into noon, to evening. Azra got the distinct impression that Tevis was waiting for her to speak first. He waited nonjudgmentally as she stopped to take in the sky or watch the wind ripple the dry grasses. He didn't comment when she stared too long at her hands or compulsively checked the magazine on her new sidearm over and over again.

* * *

May 12, 2950, 20:10; Old Detroit, Earth 

Azra plopped down in between the concrete slabs. They'd passed hundreds of spots just like this one over the course of the day, but it was here that her exhaustion won out. She'd kept herself going on adrenaline, urgency, and grief, but it didn't change the fact she'd slept perhaps six out of the last 150 hours and hadn't eaten anything nutritious since the soup two days ago.

Tevis eased down gracefully next to her. The wind was picking up as the sun descended, but their little slot protected them. Azra was comforted that the weather acted as it always had. Fifty-seven years meant nothing to the land.

What was different, she'd firmly concluded, was her. The world was like razors now, so  _bright_  and so  _loud_  and the everyday scents and sounds were ones she hadn't experienced in forever. The wind in the trees. The smell of damp earth and rotting things and new greenness that mixed together with the acrid stench of the city. Tevis' breathing, the faint hum of open comms.

The ache in her legs and the grittiness of her eyes when she blinked were  _too_  familiar. She couldn't remember the last time she wasn't exhausted.

Azra turned her face up to the sun and wondered what she should say. The words didn't rise easy to her lips like they had in times past. They'd been trapped so long there was no force behind them, no need to say anything at all. Spark was ever-present in her thoughts, and who could she even talk to, besides him? Praedyth was…

She'd never really visited Praedyth. She couldn't quite explain why. He'd remained stubborn while she'd adapted. Maybe together they could have wreaked more havoc for the Vex and so they'd turned their machinations against that end. Maybe it was just too hard to reach him without notice. She'd sprung him from his prison, one time at the end, but that was it.

Movement caught her eye and brought her thoughts back to the present world. A half-disintegrated piece of plastic skittered and flipped down the street as it was blown. Her heartbeat was still calm and her instincts still picked apart the world around her. Tevis was the picture of tranquility. There were no threats, not yet.

What should she say? Her thoughts either drifted to the Vault, trying to pick apart and sort the memories, or they went to-

That crack in her heart just… hurt. Andal was gone and it  _hurt._  There were pains layered around that, on top of it, all the what ifs and the angers and the despair she felt at the thought of the future.

What was there to say?

"I just… really hope he didn't blame himself," Azra said. Her voice was gravelly. "He was always such a worrier. Then I go off and get myself killed under his watch."

"He didn't," Tevis said gently. "He knew you'd kick his ass for it if you could. He wallowed for a little bit, but he pulled himself out of it.

"You know…" Tevis started, stopped, reconsidered. "Andal would ask the same thing about you."

"I'd have been there if I could," Azra said. "Doesn't much change the fact that he's gone. I can't even mourn properly. No one will even  _tell_ me." The helpless anger resurfaced. She did her best to push it down. The best she could manage was a simmer. Tevis was on Cayde's side on this issue. She couldn't deny the fact that she resented him a little for it. Revenge wouldn't fix everything, but it would be something to do.

Tevis shook his head. "He's not _gone_. He's dead, but his influence on this world hasn't ended."

"Is this that 'if you remember them, they're not really gone' bullshit?"

"It's not bullshit," Tevis insisted. "If you can find it in yourself to believe that, it  _helps_. Andal is dead, but you can still remember him. You can take what he put into the world, what he put into you, and make that continue. He doesn't go unless you let him go."

"Never was good at buying into things," Azra mumbled. Once the sun set in true, the Fallen would come crawling out of the tunnels. They should leave soon.

"Then you'll suffer," Tevis stated, not meanly. It was plain fact.

Azra snorted. "What's new?"

Tevis gave her a look then, and she realized how odd she must seem. Her life before had been marked occasionally by sadness, regret, or resentment, but the base of it all had been happiness. Habitual suffering had  _not_  been the norm.

Now?

"What was it like in there?" Tevis whispered.

She was tired of this. "There is no way to even come close to describing it. Any attempt is just… it's too different. There's no human words to describe the experience. No person's ever been through that." Before her. She supposed she could make something up, but what point were invented words, when nobody'd understand them?

"Try," Tevis insisted. His Light exuded calm and patience and that generous acceptance of failure.

Azra took a long moment to think. Tevis didn't mind. The moment stretched into minutes, and the wind rustled the dead, burned branches overhead. Eventually, Azra spoke. "It was cold, and wet, and dark. The air didn't move much. Nothing to eat. Something worse than death around every corner. It took everything I had, every scrap of willpower and knowledge and skill, just to exist. It's a threat that keeps with you. Just because I'm not in there now… doesn't change the fact that I could just  _not exist_  one day.

"The equation- me, the Vault, approached the solution that is today. But there are many equations. If the Vex find the right variables, we're all doomed. If they manage to change the ones we have now… I'm still in there, in a way. The Vault is not…" she hesitated. "…A line. Or a section of a line. It's a point." She poked a hole in the dirt. "Even if I have a perspective  _now_  of it being behind me, I still exist there, and will exist, and have existed. There's no way out here in 4D to tell if they're making changes to the fifth. Every alterations re-invents the past and all of our memories of it. I'm still in danger. I always was and always will be in danger." She couldn't stop the small tremble in her voice.

Tevis' fingers played with a small dagger. "Are ontological threats really that different than mortal ones?"

Azra nodded. "Yeah, I'd be  _really_  dead. No influence on the world. Nobody to remember me. Who knows how many people have already met that fate?"  _Two, at least_ , her memory whispered.

"And ignoring it doesn't work?" An honest question. Sometimes dealing with something entailed stubbornly refusing to think about it. Some issues were too big or too twisted to sort out on their own. Not letting it have an effect on you could be the only real solution.

Azra just shook her head. "Can't ignore things in there, Tevis. That's how you wind up not being. What will there ever be that can weigh against literal eternity? I can't put it aside any more than I can put aside breathing."

"So, you can't move past it, and you can't live easy with it." With a grunt, the Nightstalker stood. Tevis Larsen was no Titan, but he had a lot of practice in the skill of looming. Azra blinked up at him calmly. Of all the things she feared, Tevis had never been one of them.

"What are you going to  _do_  about that, Jax?"

* * *

May 13, 2950, 02:11; The Last City, Earth 

_Hunters are not usually considered the most intelligent or esteemed class of Guardians, yet those of us experienced in field work know of their value in sticky situations. Their deep knowledge of the wilds, their sometimes-astounding sense of intuition, and their resourcefulness can make them extremely useful allies._

_History has shown us- in examples such as Lady Efrideet and Lady Perun, and more contemporary examples like Ana Bray and Andal Brask, that-_

Veera thumbed through a few pages. She'd never been that interested in forewards- she wanted at the juicy part.

She started at the beginning of the next chapter.

_1) Basic Philosophy_

_Much of the inherent conflict in Warlock and Hunter nature comes from a difference in life philosophy stemming from a contrasting worldview. Hunters most commonly make their home in the Wilds outside the City walls. It is not just a space they enjoy occupying on occasion, it is their default state of existence. Their reasons for doing so can be debated endlessly, but it does not alter the reality of their lives._

_Living outside the City requires one to be constantly aware of outside threats, both natural and alien in nature. A common Hunter saying is 'there are no_ safe _places- only_ safer _places'. Thus many adopt vigilance of the highest degree. They consider no space and no situation to be without potential hazards. This is also a root cause for the common insomnia and jumpiness observed in many of their ranks. Relaxation is never a measure of safety, but of power. The key difference: a Warlock might let down their guard with the thought of 'nothing here will hurt me'. A Hunter will do so thinking 'I know of all the dangers present and am confident in my ability to survive them'._

_While Warlocks often deal with ontological, metaphysical, or philosophical threats, a Hunter's world is full of physical ones: a falling rock, a Vandal with a shock blade, freezing temperatures. Their ability to survive depends both on their experience with given risks and on their ability to learn and adapt to new situations-_

Veera kept flipping.

"I have to say, patience is not one of your strong suits," Ghost quipped.

"I'm reading this book for a reason," she responded. "I'd like to fulfill that reason without wasting unnecessary time. We may not have that long."

She read brief snatches of text, scanning for something useful.

_-what to them are obvious social cues in an ever-changing dance. Experienced Hunters can (and often will) conceal their true intentions and feelings by projecting constructed reactions. Even reading these are useful, as they give you an idea of what they want you to think they feel (this I-know-you-know-that-I-know type of thinking is frustratingly common)-_

_-default state of mistrust makes trust gained something very powerful-_

_-very dangerous and constantly changing world. Their social norms reflect this- they push boundaries so they know where those boundaries lie. Being lenient and easily swayed will make you appear to be unstable and prone to changing opinions, and thus unpredictable and a potential danger. Firmness and consistency are they key to gaining trust. Set your boundaries and stick-_

_-dealt only in general concepts. The rest of this work shall be devoted to the specific ins and outs of Hunter culture and interaction. With that stated, let us start at the beginning._

_5) Introductions_

"Here we go," Veera muttered.

_Introductions especially are about the evaluation and reaction to potential threats. Open, closed, or nervous posture all indicate different assessments. While an open or relaxed greeting may be a sign of familiarity or trust, it may also be seen as a dismissal or insult. Greeting strangers or new acquaintances in this way may indicate the Hunter does not hold them in high esteem or consider them competent._

_Though there are some universal constants in body language, this author sees fit to enumerate some of the many specific signals that are commonly misinterpreted. As a Hunter might say, learn by example:_

_Examples of relaxed behavior: wandering eyes, loose posture, idle fidgeting, expressive face, animated hand gestures, slouching, dragging feet, physical contact such as leaning, holding hands, hugging, etc._

_Examples of threatening (or threatened) behavior: tense shoulders, twitching fingers, prolonged or intense eye contact, flinching, hands kept out of sight or near/on weapons, monotonous or low voice, physical distance, tucked-in chin._

_A Hunter's eyes are one of the keys to determining their motivations. In short, they look at what they deem important. This is also one of the hardest things to control and a source of many giveaways or 'tells' as to a Hunter's true motivation. Staring is often seen as rude, but a lack of eye contact can be dismissive. Much like in Warlocks, a refusal to look at someone or something can also be seen as a sign of discomfort-_

"Whatcha doin', V?"

Veera nearly dropped the book in surprise. She knew at this point chiding Tapio for dropping in unannounced would do no good. She just sighed and glanced at the clock. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Where had he even come from? She'd locked her door.

Tapio draped himself over her shoulders and made grabbing motions. "Whatcha readin', then?"

Veera turned the book so he could see the cover.

Tapio squinted at the words. "'On the Hunter: The Man, the Manners, and the Mannerisms?' What kinda book title is that?"

"A descriptive one," Veera shot back.

"Wait, a Warlock wrote a book on Hunters?"

"Several have," Veera's Ghost said.

The Voidwalker nodded. There were a dozen titles to choose from. "I think they took a relatively unbiased approach to the topic-"

Tapio plucked the book from her hands and examined it closely. "But a book about Hunter manners? Seems… sinful."

"Give that back!"

The Awoken man thumbed through the index. "Ooh, it's got a whole chapter on knives!"

Veera stood and snatched the book back from his hands. "That's a loan! I can't have you… setting it on fire, or whatever it is that happened to those blueprints from Istanbul!"

Tapio held his hands up in a gesture of defeat. "I was cold, sue me. Whatcha reading a guide on Hunters for, anyway? Seems kinda self-defeating if you ask me. Not the Hunter way."

Veera sat back down and placed the book carefully on her desk. "You know there's something I need to talk to the team about-"

"Yeah," Tapio interrupted. "Don't see why we have to wait for Sylas to get back-"

"Well, I met someone-"

"Ooooohh!" Tapio's Ghost cooed.

Veera shot a dirty look. "Not like that, you officious rumorchaser."

"Did she insult you?" Tapio asked the Ghost. "I can't tell if that was an insult or not."

" _In any case_ , do you know who Azra Jax is?"

Tapio scratched at his ear and settled on the bedspread. "Cayde-6 mentions her sometimes. Andal did too, before he bit it. She's pack with them, right? Was. She's dead."

"It turns out, she wasn't dead. Just trapped somewhere."

Tapio nodded. That would explain Cayde's peculiar mood earlier. "And that's who you met today. Still doesn't explain the book?"

Veera grimaced and tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. "I may have… upset her."

Her Awoken companion shrugged. "A tragedy, I'm sure. Shouldn't we be focusing on, you know… the raid? Thought you'd be doing everything you could to learn about the Vault."

This is why Hunters and Titans could be infuriating. They just never knew  _anything_ , and even when they did they were too stubborn to  _think_. "Azra Jax was presumed dead fifty-seven years ago after her fireteam made an attempt to map the  _Vault of Glass,"_  she paused to emphasize those words, "…and failed tragically. Only Pahanin made it out alive, until a few days ago."

She waited for a glimmer of recognition in Tapio's eyes before she continued. "Azra Jax has been trapped in the Vault for the last six decades. She probably knows more about the it than any person in living history, and I don't think she wants to tell me anything. I need to get on her good side."

Tapio bit his lip. "Well, when you put it like that…"

Veera rolled her eyes.

"But seriously, a  _book_. On Hunter manners. It's like… a contradiction in terms."

"You used that saying wrong," Veera's Ghost pointed out.

He leaned forward on his knees, suddenly restless. He fidgeted with the edge of his cloak. "Do you want me to… translate? I dunno. I could go talk to her. Or you could talk to Cayde about it." He looked up suddenly, making eye contact. "You're right, her help would be  _great_. Right now we barely have any idea of what we're walking into."

 _He's nervous_ , Veera noted. "I need her to like _me_ , Tap. This is going to be more than a 20-minute conversation. Wouldn't getting a go-between just lose her respect?"

There was a knock at the door. Great. Not like they were in the middle of something.

"I got it!" Tapio called. He was halfway across the room before Veera could stand. She marveled for a second at the Hunter's Light-given agility, then refocused.

Tapio threw open the door.

* * *

There was an unfamiliar Guardian in the entranceway. The warm light of the room threw her features into sharp relief. Her cloak was a dull gray with a hasty red stripe painted on. Her face was haggard, but her eyes were sharp. They slid over Tapio and flicked behind him instead, where Veera stood.

Then after a moment she dragged her gaze back to him. She shifted her weight, apologetic. "We need to talk."

"It's 2 am," Veera said from her place by the desk.

"You don't appear to be sleeping," the Hunter noted dryly.

Tapio shot Veera a look, then tilted his head towards the other Hunter. "She's got a point. Plus,  _I'm_  plenty awake. It's five pm in Old Tehran."

The Warlock sighed. "I will never understand you people. Come in. We do need to talk."

The newcomer walked carefully over the threshold. Her eyes flitted over the space, never pausing for more than a moment, until-

She cocked and eyebrow and snorted. Veera had set the book cover-up, and the title was  _very_ visible.

"I know, right?" Tapio said. "Warlocks."

A hint of a smile touched her lips. "Seems counterintuitive."

"That's what I said!"

Azra smiled a bit more, a tiny thing. She stuck out a hand towards her fellow Hunter. "Name's Azra."

He took it. "Tapio Llyr. Cayde still tells stories about you. Did you really steal the Kell of Winter's private skiff?"

She nodded. "Not for long. Got shot down 'bout two klicks out, but hey. Only thing better than stealing a Kell's skiff is wrecking it."

Her eyes shot suddenly to Veera, who'd sat back down in her chair, then back to Tapio, who still stood. She took a deep breath, like she was steeling herself. "Do-"

Veera interrupted. "Tapio is a part of the raid team. Anything you can tell me, you can tell him."

Azra hesitated just a fraction of a second. Tapio took the initiative, scooting by to sit on the corner-side of the bed. Azra perched on the far end. It left her an open path to the door and singular window.

"That's still a plan, huh?" Azra grimaced. She pulled off a glove and ran a hand through her hair-

Tapio couldn't help but stare. Her hands were calloused and scarred. Pale lines traced her knuckles, her palm, the tips of her fingers.

The glove was yanked back on with force, and Tapio looked up to find Azra glaring. She pulled her hood more forward and set her shoulders at the edge between  _angry_  and  _insecure_.

"Yes, that's still a plan." Veera said.

Azra turned back to the Warlock. "And now you know who I am, and my  _experience_  in this subject, I am telling you,  _explicitly_ , don't." Her voice was bitter. Tapio's eyes lingered on her gloved hands. He wasn't aware there was anything that could do that to a Guardian.

"You can't stop us," Veera replied. There was fire in her own voice.

Azra's grimace was showing teeth now. "You don't-"

Veera clapper her hands together, suddenly. Both of the Hunters flinched. Veera looked taken aback for a second, but she steadied herself and plowed on. "Okay. Listen." Azra's lips pressed into a thin line, and she tensed, but she made no move to leave.

"This is something that needs to be done. The Vex have gone unchecked for too long. Now, whether you help us or not, my fireteam and I are going down into the Vault and we will try our damndest. Tell me nothing, I'm going anyway. Steal my guns, I'll go in there with just my Light. Take my Ghost, well, I may die, but I'm still going in. I've got to try. You cannot stop me. All you can do is help me succeed."

Azra's face was thoughtful now. "Why?"

"Someone needs to. And why not me?"

"You don't even have a year under your belt," Azra pointed out.

Veera sighed. "People say these things I do are impossible- I take down an Archon, I stop a Hive ritual, I kill a God- and all those were hard, but they were not impossible. I think that on occasion, you need someone to come along who is unaware of all of the rules, who doesn't know what is and is not possible, so they can break down the barriers. If it's my inexperience that lets me think that I can do this, then inexperience is an asset.

"I am not a seasoned warrior," Veera said, drawing herself up. There was pride in her voice. "I do not know that conquering the Vault is impossible. I refuse to accept that it is. I do not care what you say, I am going to slay Atheon and put an end to the Vex's ontological efforts. Someone has to."

Tapio expected Azra to get angry or scoff at Veera, but when he looked over, the Hunter was grinning. There was a spark of something fierce in her eyes. "Oh, you'll do  _nicely_ ," she drawled.

The Warlock was taken aback. "What?"

Azra tilted her chin up in a sign of respect. "You're right, Veera. Guardians make their own fate.  _We_  decide what can and cannot be done. I think you might just be stubborn enough."

"I… what?" Veera asked.

Azra leaned forward. "I'm saying,  _blood_ , you've convinced me. I'll help you."

"...That was a bit mean," Tapio said.

Azra shrugged. "Hey, I'm the one with the intel. Gotta be picky with this stuff. I get the feeling I'll be repaying you, anyway."

Veera just blinked owlishly at the two of them. Azra studied her from the corner of her eye as she spoke to Tapio. "Warlocks can be a bit slow on the uptake, can't they?"

"I feel sorry for them sometimes," Tapio agreed teasingly.

The class insults seemed to rouse Veera from her stupor. "You'll help?"

"Didn't I just explicitly state that? Yes. Me. You. Help." Azra drawled again. "Frankly I have no idea where you guys stand now on info. You mentioned something about Ishtar?"

"Some maps would be nice," Tapio groused. "We've got zip in that department."

Azra's Ghost appeared in the space between them. "I have files," it said in a silvery tenor. "But we need to visit Master Rahool to get at them."

Veera still looked stunned. Tapio continued. "We've got a team meeting scheduled for tomorrow, 1900 tower time."

"1900?" Azra and her Ghost looked at each other. Azra nodded. "I can do that. Where?"

"Uhm, we've decided to hold the meeting outside of the City," Veera said. "For reasons."

"'Outside of the City' is several billion square kilometers," Azra said dryly.

"On… Earth?" Veera said.

"Oooh, got it narrowed down to several hundred million square kilometers, now." Azra had a bit of a lopsided grin. Tapio saw she was messing with the Warlock. "You don't have a place picked yet, do you?"

Veera shook her head reluctantly, looking a bit like a scolded child. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Azra's eyebrows arched high in surprise. It seemed she wasn't expecting consideration here. "Michipicoten Island," she said smoothly. "Villa's Wake. It's even in the same timezone as the Tower, so you don't need to worry about that. If you don't have that on your map, your map sucks."

"I have it," Veera's Ghost said.

"Cool. 1900 tomorrow."

Azra stood up and breezed out of the room. Her movements were just a bit too jerky for true relaxation, but she put on a good show.

She left a stunned-silent Veera in her wake. The door closed, and there were a few beats of quiet.

"I think she likes you," Tapio teased.

"How in the world do you tell?"

"She didn't leave when you started yelling at her," he pointed out.

Veera looked alarmed. "I did not yell at her!"

"You totally did," Tapio's Ghost said.

"… Oh my God I did."

Tapio grinned and opened his mouth, but was interrupted when the door opened again.

Azra's head poked through the gap. "Wait, '1900 tomorrow' as in seventeen hours from how or forty-one-hours from now?"

Tapio nearly giggled with glee at Veera's stupefied expression. "Uh," the Warlock started. Tapio wasn't sure she was going to pull herself out of it, but-

"Seventeen hours from now," Veera asserted. She clasped her hands, the picture of professionalism.

"Gotcha." Azra winked and slid back out of sight. The door closed with a quiet click.

"Did she wink at you, or at me?" Tapio asked.

Veera picked up the book, stared at the cover for a long moment, then tucked it under her arm. "I… need to return this to the library."

"Confident in your ability to read Hunters now?"

"No," Veera paused at the door. "I've given up all hope. You people are crazy."

"Hey, crazy can be good," Tapio argued.


	24. Time to Get Moving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all,
> 
> You may have noticed the slower updates as of late. Life has gotten in the way of things, as it tends to do. I am still committed to finishing this story at whatever pace my free time allows.

In the clearing stands a boxer  
And a fighter by his trade  
And he carries the reminders  
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down  
Or cut him till he cried out  
In his anger and his shame,  
"I am leaving, I am leaving,"  
But the fighter still remains

The Boxer – Simon and Garfunkel

* * *

May 13, 2950, 11:12; The Last City, Earth

The Gunsmith's stall was as easy to break into as it had ever been. Azra didn't even need to pick any locks in his new location. She could just pull the invisibility trick and vault the counter when Banshee was turned the other way.

Of course, she'd only been there for about five seconds before Banshee noticed. He still had his sharp senses. "I know you?" The Exo rasped. He looked rather unimpressed.

"Used to, mayahps." Azra tucked her feet beneath her and took out the Requiem. Like her, it came out of the Vault transformed. It used to be a backup for a backup, shining and barely used. Now it was scratched and rusted and dirty. "It's been… a long time."

The Exo grunted and shifted his optics to her sidearm. He was visually taken aback at the state of the weapon.

"Did my best," Azra muttered sorely. Spark materialized a toolkit. (Brand-new, of course. Everything she had was either old and battered or shining new.) Banshee turned back to his own work, casting the occasional sidelong glance at Azra.

She frowned as she carefully disassembled the piece. "Hey Banshee."

"Yeah." The gunsmith asked, more statement than question.

"Given damp conditions, how old would you say this gun is?"

"Lifetime for a gun is how many times you fire it, not how long it's been, 'cept for corrosion." He plucked the barrel covering from its resting place and turned it over in his hands. "This one seems like it's had a rough time of it. Don't see to many Guardians with scars. Mare Ibrium?"

Azra startled a bit. "What?"

"These were Vanguard commission for Mare Ibrium. Omolon design."

"Huh. Yeah. Guess so." She turned her head back to her work.

"Looks like it's been about half a century without good cleaning."

"Like I said, I did my best." A pause. "But half a century, you say?"

"Don't know why you're asking me. It takes a lot for these to rust. Swear I know you from somewhere."

She took the barrel casing back and grabbed a wire brush. "Like I said, it's been a long time." The piece was in really bad shape. Maybe it couldn't be salvaged.

"Try vinegar," Banshee suggested. "Takes the rust right off. Throw in some salt if you want it to go faster. Just make sure to clean it well."

"Thanks, Ban," Azra said. It was worth a shot. She'd have to go down into the City proper for supplies, but… "Azra," she said.

The Gunsmith grunted in confusion.

She looked up to meet his eyes. "You were asking. My name is Azra."

* * *

May 13, 2950, 13:38; The Last City, Earth

"How about the map files?"

Master Rahool shook his head. Azra peered at him through half-lidded eyes. The man looked rather hawklike under his hood. "Unrecoverable," the Cryptarch said. "In fact, there's very little evidence to suggest there was any map to begin with."

Azra frowned. "What do you mean? The data's there." Spark had even given him five older versions of the revised file.

"You can think of maps as a series of data points, like a regular image." Rahool tapped on his pad to bring up a picture on his projector. It was a sunset on a beach, purples and pinks reflected on the wet sands.

"This photograph is an arrangement of differently colored pixels," the Cryptarch continued. "The individual pieces do matter, but if you put them in the wrong places…" He tapped another command out on his pad and the picture rearranged itself. Now it was an amorphous purple-gray mess. "The importance is in the arrangement, as well as the data." Another tap, the flecks of color flew back to form the beach, the sun, the clouds. "You have data, but no clear structure for that data." He pulled up another picture on the projector. It was static, gray and grainy.

"Cryptography is often about obscuring the true arrangement of things," Spark said. "Are you sure this just hasn't been scrambled?"

"Each data point should have an index," Rahool replied. Seeing the confusion on the Hunter's face, he elaborated. "A signifier telling us where to put it in relation to the other points. This data… some of the points have no indices. Some indices that should be filled have no corresponding point. Sometimes two points share the same index, some points paradoxically have multiple indices listed. I have run this data through every cipher and decryption process known to man, along with a few that aren't. There is no indication that there is any 'correct' order at all. It's just static."

He pulled up another gray mess. It still just looked like more fuzz to Azra. "We examine older copies, there are few to no correlated points. I suspect the matches are just there by random chance."

"This is dumb," Azra protested. "I could just  _draw_  you a map."

Rahool flicked something on his pad and handed it over to her.

* * *

_Andal tapped the page. "Writing it down always makes it more real. There's just something about holding the pen. More solid."_

* * *

She stared at the blank expanse for a while, mind spinning. Of course, the gate was the logical starting point, but from there…

Azra had walked, run, and crawled through those hallways for a lifetime. It had been an occupation, a mode of existence. She knew every stone, every nook. Yet the shape of the Vault refused to resolve itself into the new (old) linear world. Time twisted into space and folded over itself into impossible shapes. And worse, those shapes shifted and moved even as her mind worked to describe them.

She gave the pad back to Rahool with shaking hands.

"Are you quite alright?" The Cryptarch asked.

Spark spoke, because Azra couldn't. "Thank you for all your help. We're sorry it didn't work out."

* * *

May 13, 2950, 18:35; Over Lake Superior, Earth

"Why did she choose this place?" Veera asked.

Tapio turned his gaze out over the expanse of glittering blue. The lake was not an ocean, but it might as well have been. Every horizon was water. "Why'd you take her recommendation?" He asked in turn. It was an odd occurrence, considering Warlocks and their egos. Admitting defeat and seeking help weren't the usual courses of action.

Veera shrugged. She was more focused on her datapad than the dazzling view around them. "She seemed knowledgeable, and I thought, why not?"

Tapio chuckled and shook his head. "You're one of the good ones, V."

There was silence for a moment. Tapio's fingers flexed on the control sticks of his ship. Veera remembered he never talked much while driving vehicles. It was odd; you could hardly get him to shut up sometimes, yet put him behind the wheel and he'd be quiet for hours.

Veera looked and finally caught sight of the island on the horizon. The gray blur swiftly turned to a verdant green lump as the ship approached. "I would still like to know what makes this place so special," she pushed.

Tapio pulled back on the sticks, circling low. "It ain't special at all. That's what makes it a good meeting spot."

"Ready for transmat," Veera's Ghost warned.

Suddenly, Veera was not in Tapio's cockpit anymore. She stumbled a bit as the ground appeared beneath her feet (or rather as her feet appeared above the ground). Tapio materialized next to her, gun drawn.

"Then why here? It is very… remote." Veera asked.

Tapio scanned the woods. Then he sighed and holstered his weapon, apparently satisfied they weren't about to be torn apart. "It's not a popular spot, which is good. We're ten miles from shore, hundred miles past that to any city ruins. The Fallen are stupid, but not stupid enough to put anti-air in the middle of nowhere to try and defend a bunch of empty forest. We don't gotta rely on transmat zones or take our Sparrows from farther out. We can just walk right in." As if to demonstrate his carefree attitude, he turned and skipped backwards, facing Veera. She caught the look on his face when he tripped on a log and went toppling backwards. She laughed. Tapio, after a moment of shocked silence, started laughing too.

"Oh, Tap, you're one of the good ones," Veera echoed.

She helped him up, and they walked. It was only half a minute until they came to a break in the foliage.

At first, Veera thought it must be the clearing. As they pushed their way through she saw it wasn't the case. There were still trees, just no leaves. Dead trunks stood in a macabre imitation of a forest. Bare branches scraped at the sky. Only grass and moss added color to the landscape. Veera looked behind them, to the dense wall of greenery provided by the healthy woodland.

The trees were covered in some alien-looking scrawl. It twisted up and around the trunks in disorganized patterns. The lake-wind in the bare branches made an almost inaudible hum. The bird chatter quickly faded, leaving only the keening of wind and their footsteps in the undergrowth.

"This place is… strange," Veera muttered.

"Maybe  _that's_  why she picked it," Tapio said. "Maybe some uncomfortableness is called for, given why we're here."

They came to an actual clearing. The tree-free space formed a lopsided oval perhaps fifteen meters across. In the center, eight boulders were arranged in a perfect circle. They looked ancient, overgrown with moss and sunk deep into the earth. They could have been sitting there for millennia.

"We're the first ones here," Veera observed. Not wholly unexpected. They were twenty minutes early.

"Nope," Tapio said, pointing. Now that her attention was drawn to it, Veera could make out the bowed form of a Human dozing in the shadow of one of the rocks.

Veera stepped forward, but was stopped by Tapio's grip on her arm. He squeezed hard enough to hurt. " _Don't_ ," the Hunter said emphatically.

"Don't what?" Veera asked.

"Look, you're interested in… culture, or whatever now, yeah? That's not how you wake Hunters up."

"Why not?"

Tapio sighed and started casting about for something. "Most things that grab you while you're sleeping are trying to kill you. Lot of us are jumpy."

"You are not jumpy," Veera pointed out.

Tapio hefted a fist-size rock. "Doesn't mean the average Hunter ain't. Trust me. It'll save you a rez, and it'll save her the unpleasantness of waking up with a bloody knife and a corpse at her feet. Unintentional murder ain't fun for either party involved."

Veera eyed the stone. "In that case, how _do_  you wake Hunters up?"

"Watch and learn," Tapio drawled. He turned away to face the figure. 'Azra! Hey, Hunter, it's time to get moving!" he bellowed. He waited a second, yelled again, and when there seemed to be no response, he palmed his rock and took a few steps forward.

He tossed it underarm, low, so it skipped across the ground. His aim was true; the stone knocked into her hip.

There was an immediate reaction. Azra jerked violently the instant the rock hit. In the blink of an eye, she was on her feet. The helmet she wore concealed her expression, but her posture said enough. Every line of her body was tense. A curved line of purple light glimmered in her hands. It took Veera a second to place the Dusk Bow. She had only seen it twice before. Azra's Bow was long and simple, and it was drawn and aimed directly at Veera.

The figure paused a long moment, absolutely still. Veera froze as well, her heart in her throat. The screech of the Bow drew to a crescendo.

Then the Hunter shifted, taking a wider stance, arrow-point swinging upwards. Azra loosed the Bow straight into the sky. The tether twirled up, then down again, whistling through the air. It burst harmlessly just above the treetops. The temperature in the clearing dropped twenty degrees in an instant. A light fog settled on the ground.

"Cool trick," Tapio said diplomatically.

Azra pulled off her helmet. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Sorry," she muttered.

"Sylas and Wahida should be showing up soon," Tapio said. The other Hunter paused, then nodded and moved to sit again by her rock, this time on the sunny side. Veera and Tapio took up similar positions on other boulders.

There were a long few minutes of silence. Azra sharpened a knife, repeatedly testing the edge on the pad of her thumb. It drew blood easily, but Azra would still frown and go back for more passes with the whetstone. Her Ghost hovered nearby, watching the process intently.

Veera got bored quickly. She supposed she should use the time meditating, yet every time she closed her eyes, the question bothered her.

"What is this place?" she finally asked.

The Hunter replied, smooth as polished steel. "It's where this Warlock named Villa was raised." She shrugged and sucked at her bleeding thumb. "It's just got a name 'cause Tevis knew her. Cool thing about making maps: you can name anything whatever you want."

"That's it?" Veera said. "It is hard to believe this place has such little consequence."

Azra scratched her head. "Uh, it took two whole days to find these rocks and move them all? Three of 'em were too big to transmat, we had to roll 'em by hand. Pretty sure my back still aches sometimes."

"How long ago was that?"

"'Bout… uh, Seventy-four years ago now?"

"Sylas is here," Tapio interrupted. Veera didn't miss the flash of relief on Azra's face as she stood. She added it to her growing list of concerns.

* * *

Sylas was not alone. Another Titan came with him, half a pace behind. It was obvious which one was which. The Exo looked just like his picture in the City records: tall, dark, green optics and a streamlined face.

Besides, Azra knew the other one.

"Sulla, you old fox!" the Hunter drawled in greeting. She didn't make an effort to hide her grin. Familiar faces were fewer and further between these days.

The old Sunbreaker stared like she'd seen a ghost. "You're supposed to be dead," Sulla said mildly.

Azra shrugged. "Funny, Lord Shaxx said the exact same thing. Same tone of voice, too. Almost… disappointed. Is it a Titan thing?"

The Exo interrupted by stepping forward. "Sylas-4," he intoned, sticking out his hand.

The Hunter took it. "Azra Jax. Arcstrider extraordinaire, map enthusiast, and Vault of Glass escapee slash survivor. Pleasure to meet you."

"It was my thought she could counsel us," Veera explained, "given her unique experience."

Sylas nodded mutely and crossed his arms.

Azra decided to switch subjects. "So, Sulla, how's the Order going? Is Ouros still kicking?"

The Titan had nodded and opened her mouth to speak when a jumpship roared by close overhead. A Warlock transmatted directly into the clearing. "I'm late!" The Exo announced frantically. She fixed her skewed robes as she trotted over to the rest of the group.

"And yet the Earth remains unshattered," Sylas-4 commented.

"Wait, you said  _Arcstrider_ ," Tapio said. "What's an Arcstrider?"

Azra groaned.

* * *

When the Lightshow was done, Veera took it upon herself to get the group back on track. "Yes, very impressive, but in the interest of time, can we begin?"

Everyone settled down. Veera scanned the faces. They all were looking at her expectantly, with varying levels of trepidation and boredom. The Voidwalker stood and brushed off her robes.

"I could give an inspiring and long-winded speech here about the importance of this mission and our goals, but every person here is aware of the situation. Let us be fast. My name is Veera, I am a Voidwalker. You all know of my credentials. This is Tapio Llyr," she gestured to the Hunter, who gave a wave, "Gunslinger. Wahida-14, Sunsinger," the Exo Warlock still seemed a bit distracted, "and Sylas-4, Sentinel. We form Fireteam Dauntless. Team, meet Sulla. She has decided to join us on our mission."

"The Sunbreakers send their regards," Sulla intoned. "We wish to see the Vault fall as much as the City does."

* * *

Azra got the feeling this was going to be a very formal meeting, with the stiff Titans, the distracted Sunsinger, and the dramatically serious Voidwalker at the helm. Tapio didn't look like he could be relied upon to spice up the conversation this time.

She hopped off her rock. Might as well move things along. "I am Azra Jax," she announced. "I'm a member of Andal Brask's pack, along with Cayde-6. Fifty-seven years ago, I signed on to a deep scouting mission of the Vault with Kabr, Pahanin, Praedyth, and two others. Obviously, it did not go well. I escaped just a few weeks ago. Now Veera tells me you're planning on repeating the same mistakes that had me trapped in hell for all eternity and lost two members of our fireteam their existences."

A little bit of outrage welled from the Warlock like a solar flare. She plowed on. "I won't say hubris was the issue. This needs doing." The anger turned to confusion, then acceptance as she spoke. "The problem is, you're going in blind. You have no maps, no data. The only information you have is from Ishtar's records and the other escapee, Pahanin, who never made it past the Templar's Well. I know every danger in the Vault. Every inch and second of it. Veera asked me to be here today to advise you, so you all won't go in unprepared like I did."

_You could have worded that better_ , Spark chided.

"You said you had maps," Tapio said at the same time. It took Azra a second to sort the two voices. She shook her head to both.

"Unfortunately, ah… maps aren't going to work." Azra crossed her arms in an oddly self-conscious gesture. This was going to be hard to explain.

"You were in there for that long and you never made a map?" Tapio protested.

"I didn't say I didn't make maps," Azra replied. "Just that they  _don't work_. The way the Vault is, you just can't make static charts of it. I tried. They're all gobbledygook. I couldn't even  _draw_  you one."

"The Vault's like, a physical place," Tapio said. "How does that even- look, when you first went in there, you were still sane, right?" Azra winced inwardly at the  _sane_  comment, but managed to keep a hand on her outward composure. "Even if your memory's all off, how come you can't even chart us to the Well?"

Azra rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Alright, we're going full Warlock here, so try to keep up."

She gestured as she spoke, trying to somehow convey her meaning through hand motions. "The way things move in the Vault- think of it like an equation. There are different points on the line. Your force of will against the Vex's… it makes an asymptote. So there wasn't quite any  _becoming_ , in the 4D sense. I did not start out one day fully linear and then slowly become more and more… unstuck. That equation is the final product determined by all of the conditions set out beforehand. Just like anything out here, really. The fabric we weave today is made from the strands of the past. The way the pattern works determines what will happen in the future. Atheon's will is trying to rearrange the fabric and the pattern to suit the Vex's wants. We live in the weaving. The Vault is the tapestry.

"So in the Vault, everything just kind of… was. Things  _happened_ … repetition was a thing sometimes in the more linear bits, but otherwise… it's hard to explain. Some events just  _were_. I can remember them a hundred times. Nothing ever changed, not even my knowledge. Other events shift. I can tell you of a time I managed to kill a Gorgon using the explosion of another Gorgon. I could also tell you of the same time when I managed to sneak past that unit. Or again when I had to use half my remaining ammunition just to take it out."

"Get to the point, Jax," Sylas said.

Azra steepled her fingers. "Point is, things change sometimes. I knew it all. But this is like trying to take origami and project it cleanly onto a 2-d surface. It's just not gonna work. So, point is, I cannot draw you a map. The structure and shape of the Vault are… fluid. Where you are can depend both on where you were, and where you will be, and when you are, and when you were… You pull on the strings too much, the fabric starts to fray. I could draw you a hundred thousand maps and never come close to fully describing it. You understand the laws, you understand the Vault, but there just is no way for you to comprehend those laws. Unless you feel like burning your Light out and jumping off the edge of a chasm for fun." She shuddered a bit at the memory.

"Even an approximation would be better than nothing," Veera said. "I do not care about topography if you can show us a way-"

How to make them understand? Azra interrupted. "Let's say you want to go on a walk around the Tower. You're making a list of things that you're doing on your walk as you do them. Number one, you get up and stretch. Number two, you leave your room. Number three, you stop to smell some flowers. Then you look down at your paper, and you're on number eight, you've got things filled up to number thirty-one, except numbers three through five, eighteen, and sixteen are missing. Then you're writing down number four. Then you realize you're on number fifteen but it's already written down, and your pen is moving to describe what will happen next, which is number three."

"I get the point," Veera said.

Azra spread her hands. "I can't draw you a map because the Vault is five-dimensional, or maybe six. Even if you go all 'grr me strong paracausal Guardian' and restrict it to the four, I can't predict  _how_  you will restrict it. I can't tell you which way your timestream will move, where it will jump, at what speeds, where it goes, where it used to go…"

"Is fifty-seven years enough to learn all the possible permutations?" Wahida asked. "The history of the Vex is long."

Azra's eyes were sharp. "I wasn't in there for fifty-seven years. I was in there for  _eternity._  And there are no… permutations."

"It's continuous, not discrete," Spark explained.

_So glad I have a Ghost who can speak Warlock_ , Azra thought.

_Look at you, using big words like_ permutation _and_ paracausal, Spark joked back.

"So you can't give us a map." Sylas sounded disappointed.

_You don't have to give them anything_ , Azra realized.  _You've put in the effort. You're right- there's no way you can give them a way to navigate. They don't expect anything from you. Even just telling them about the Templar and the Gorgons would be more than they have hoped for_. _You could tell them what Kabr did and walk away._

_So it's a choice_ , Spark mused.  _You don't have to do anything. There would be no repercussions. Who knows, maybe they'll even kill Atheon on their own_.

_Are you okay with this?_  Azra asked him. She felt the concern and worry of the group spread on the Light.  _They might die._

_They might live_ , Spark mused back. He was unsettled, too. It didn't sit right, just washing their hands of it and walking away. They both wanted their suffering to mean something.

Azra was tired of 'might's. A few weeks and she was already sick of living in the Vault's shadow.

_This was inevitable, wasn't it?_  Spark asked. He was... sad.

_Yeah_ , Azra replied, considering the Guardians before her. She couldn't abandon them. Her mouth opened of its own volition, but she meant the words that came out. "You still need a forward scout, right? I'll be your map."

"You're not-" Sylas said. He looked appalled. Why wouldn't he? After everything she'd gone through, to willingly walk back in-

"I'll do it," she insisted.

"You're still-"

"-Fucked in the head from all the Vex shenaniganry and the literal hell I've survived." She put a finger-gun to her temple and pulled the trigger. "I know. But nothing would make me feel better than seeing Atheon turned into a smoking pile of rubble with my own two eyes." It would bring a bit of closure, at least.

"We wouldn't  _need_  a map with you as a forward scout," the Titan mused.

Everyone seemed to be having similar thoughts. "You've already survived the Vault once…"

"Everything in there, you've already seen-"

* * *

_"No. Not like this." But Spark had precious few tools to make her stop. He couldn't physically hold her back, all he could do was talk and... "If you go… I'm. I'm not going to go with you," he gasped._

_Azra froze._

_"You're not thinking straight," he said. "You don't see everything you still stand to lose. So you're going to lose me if you go._

* * *

_You with me?_  Azra asked her Ghost, suddenly anxious.

_No_ , _I think you're right_ , Spark said.  _I'm with you._ And that would be enough.

Azra could see the tapestry pull together in her mind. Potential was limitless if you didn't measure it. This group, new, untested, so who knew? They could be strong enough for this. It was possible.

_No_ , Azra decided. They  _would_  be strong enough for this. When Guardians set their mind to something, there was very little in the universe that could stop them. They would shatter the Vault to pieces.

Azra grinned.

* * *

The sun hung low by the time they finally split. There was a long way yet to go in terms of gear prep and tactics, but Veera and Sylas had worked hard to lay the foundations of a strategy. If they kicked everything into high gear, they could be in the Vault in three or four days.

Azra was not ready for that. She pulled Veera aside.

"Listen," she said as the group began to disperse- Sulla and Sylas back to Mercury, Tapio and Wahida making dinner plans in the City- "I don't know exactly what you're planning here, but I need time before I go back in. I have to gather my strength. Get better gear. It's been-"

The Warlock interrupted her. "How does three weeks sound?"

Azra crossed her arms subconsciously. "I… can make that work. Sure. Three weeks."

* * *

Veera watched the Hunter immediately clam up again. It was frustrating. She didn't know why she was so concerned about Azra's personal opinion of her, but every misstep she took made her wince internally.

Tapio waited nearby. They were supposed to have dinner tonight with Wahida and prepare for a Vanguard strike scheduled tomorrow.

Veera had better things to spend her time on than discussing which shotgun to pick. She met Tapio's eyes and shook her head. "You go ahead. I'll drive back on my own."

Tapio gave her one parting look, shrugged, then dissolved into motes of light.

Then it was just Veera and Azra left. The wind picked up as the sun descended, pushing the eerie whistling of dead branches to distracting levels. For a long moment, it was the only sound in the clearing. The Hunter still slouched against a boulder with her arms crossed. She stared at Veera expectantly.

The Voidwalker cleared her throat nervously. She had no words prepared. "I am genuinely sorry if we have gotten off on the wrong foot," she said.

Azra frowned. "I'm helping you, aren't I?"

"You don't seem very comfortable with me." Crossed arms, tucked-in chin, and Veera could see the Hunter's fingers squeezed tight around her armored elbow.

The Hunter grimaced. "You… ask a lot of questions is all."

It made no sense. Everything Veera had been taught, it was that asking questions was a good thing. It meant that she was interested. "I'm supposed to be learning from you?" She replied. "How do you expect me to learn if you don't tell me anything?"

"How do you expect me to be comfortable with you when you're obviously more concerned with sating your own curiosity than my emotional wellbeing?" The Hunter shot back. Her voice was too bland for how hard her words were. Veera saw her hands ball into fists, pressed tight against her ribs. "It can't be more obvious you think of this as a problem to solve. Guess what? You can't fix some things." Her mouth snapped shut with finality. Her body was tense.

Veera was stunned. Was that how she was coming across? Pushy and unsympathetic? "I'm… sorry."

Ghost appeared over her shoulder. "The apology is sincere. We're both still trying to understand our place here. Perhaps the analytical approach isn't always the best one. We just want to be friends."

Regret flashed on the Hunter's face. She rubbed her forehead and tilted down her chin as if to hide it. There was a long pause before she spoke. "I shouldn't have gone off like that. I'm sorry too. It's not much excuse, but… I'm tired. It's been a long journey. I've only slept, what-"

"Seven of the last one hundred and seventy-three hours," her Ghost continued smoothly.

Azra picked back up just as smooth. "And I've barely eaten since the Vault. Sometimes being gentle takes energy. I forgot myself. No excuse, but an explanation, maybe."

There was a long silence again. Veera searched the Hunter's face for any sign of amicability. Azra kept her eyes firmly on the ground.

"Maybe we could both use a second chance," Veera said. She held out a hand. "Hello. My name is Veera. I'm a Voidwalker."

The Hunter's eyes flicked between Veera's face and her hand. Eventually, she leaned forward and completed the handshake. "I'm Azra Jax. I'm an Arcstrider."

"If you are hungry, perhaps we should get you some food?" Veera asked. "I am sure you know some good places."

Azra grimaced a bit. "I've spent way too much time in the City as of late. I'm gonna go insane if I have to sit in a crowded room right now." Strike one. Hadn't someone told Veera once to give someone three opportunities to say yes to something? It was hard to tell if Azra was saying no to food or no to the City.

"In that case, perhaps we could make a meal here?" Veera asked.

The Hunter shifted her stance. "… I actually completely forgot rations. There isn't anything to eat in the Vault. Got used to going without. Not the smartest thing."

Strike two. One more chance. Veera studied the Hunter. Was the discomfort from embarrassment or annoyance? One way to find out. "I brought enough for two," the Warlock offered.

Azra's eyes flicked up to meet hers.

* * *

Veera  _was_  fascinated with the process of building fire, yet as the darkness grew, so did her sense of urgency.

"Relax," Azra soothed. She placed sticks with unhurried ease. "Putting it together is the long bit. If you invest time in building a fire proper, it'll go up quick."

Veera eyed the tipi-like structure with doubt. It looked haphazard and rickety, like a good wind would blow it over. Azra saw her watching and shifted to give her a better view. "The trick is managing your structure. Too much space, your fire won't catch from stick to stick. Too little space, it'll go out or burn poor because it can't get enough air. But if you do it right…"

She pinched a bundle of dry fluff in her fingers. Veera was getting used to the way Azra's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She always had this faint frown on her face, like she was disappointed the world wasn't following her will.

The tips of the Hunter's fingers glowed orange. There was a surprising amount of smoke before the bundle burst into flames. Azra placed it reverently in her tipi and leaned close to blow on it.

True to her word, the fire caught quickly. Azra busied herself placing the thicker sticks while Veera prepared the food. By the time the sun had set, their sausages were roasting beside the fire (much better than above, Azra commented. The heat was in the coals, not the flames.)

Azra sighed and leaned back. The stars above them were breathtaking. Veera took a few minutes to appreciate them. The crackling fire beside her did a lot to assuage the darkness-induced anxiety. If she could just find a comfortable way to sit, she might be able to relax here.

Veera looked over to the Hunter. She hadn't said anything for several minutes. Veera had noticed her penchant for silences. The Hunter rarely spoke first. Her face in the firelight was wistful.

"I must say, I don't know what I expected of you. I don't think this was it," Veera said.

The Hunter hummed thoughtfully. "I don't think I'm what I expected, either. Does that make any sense?"

"No," Veera said.

"Fifty-seven years ago, you asked me what I thought the future would look like, this wouldn't be it. It's crazy how different everything is now, just half a century later? So many of my friends are gone. Just… gone. Poof. I didn't think I'd be as torn up about it as I am. Didn't expect me to be what I am now. It's a far sight."

"Was the person you were fifty-seven years ago really so different?"

Azra smiled with some memory. "Fifty-seven years ago? Man. Who was I, even? I was a terrible shot. Okay, I was a pretty damn good shot, but the company I kept… bad at the long-distance in comparison. Stuck to Scouts instead of Snipers. But I was so  _daring_. I could make damn magic with my Staff. Pretty good with Sparrow combat. Unorthodox. I could do the Bow a sight too, didn't pack the most punch but Tevis said I was the fastest draw this side of Twilight Gap. I've been in and out of more places than the City archives know exist. Impressed more people than I could hope to remember. Saved more lives, scrounged more tech than anyone will ever know."

Azra flexed her scarred hands. The pale marks were hard to make out in the firelight, but Veera knew they were there. "Everything that used to buoy me up just weighs me down now. Helping the City is an obligation. I look at my pack and all I see is what they've lost and how it's changed them. I'm tired of running and hiding. Fighting just makes me bitter."

"If you could do anything right now," Veera asked, "what would it be? Free of obligation or impact. What would you do?"

Azra leaned back again and spoke to the sky. "I'd… sit here and look at the stars. Go to sleep by the fire. Wake up tomorrow, take a swim in the lake, maybe go hunting for dinner. Just… relax and  _be_  out here. It's been so long since I've lived as I was raised to." Her voice held such a want in it, such longing.

Veera leaned forward. "Why don't you do that?"

Azra blinked hard a few times, apparently stupefied. "I…"

Veera counted the logical points on her fingers. "You've got time. Getting your head on straight would probably help us more than obtaining a newer gun. Nobody needs you anywhere, except for us, three weeks from now. You said yourself you should take time to gather your strength."

Azra looked halfway between appalled and disbelieving. "Tevis and Cayde would freak if I dropped off the face of the Earth, Shiro would like, actively hunt me down. He gets scary sometimes-"

"Well then don't just drop off. Tell them what you are going to do. You know what you need. They should support your decisions." "I think you are just holding yourself back. Sometimes you have to let go."

Azra's face cleared in an instant. She stared into the fire with intensity and did not speak. Veera opened her mouth to elaborate, but-

Azra put a finger to her lips in urgency and cocked her head. Veera fell silent, straining to hear whatever the Hunter heard.

It was just wind in the tree branches and the distant sound of lake waves. Slowly, the tension drained from the Hunter until she was loose again. She settled back with a sigh and nodded to herself.

"You're right," she said plainly. "I've been too caught up worrying about  _them_. Worrying about the future. The people who knew me are upset because I, frankly... I'm not doing well. At all. But the path to solve that isn't focusing on them."

Veera nodded in respect. "I admit, I am astounded by how honest you are."

"I always thought it was a sign of strength," Azra said. "Trust broken is hard and painful. But trust gained and kept? Nothing more powerful.  _Nothing_. Not a Fallen raiding party, not a Kell, not the whole Vex collective. I consider myself very lucky to have had people in my life I could trust. Besides, if you give me too much grief, I  _do_  know where you sleep." Veera wasn't completely sure the she was joking. Azra stood and brushed off her cloak. "If you'll excuse me?"

Excuse her for what? Veera just nodded and sat there dumbly while the Hunter strode off several meter's distance.

Azra cleared her throat, then spoke low, dictating something. Veera figured she should ignore it, but curiosity got the better of her. "Hey, guys. The meeting went well. I, just… there's a lot for me to process. From all of this. I know it's weird, but… I'm taking some time off. Selfish as it sounds, I need some space to relax. Been so tense, I can't think straight. I promise I'll stay safe. Spark can ping you every couple hours or so, to keep from worry. Love you all, catch you in a few. Bye."

Azra's feet made no noise as she approached. Her shadowed form moved with menacing confidence, but her face, once inside the circle of firelight, was more open and friendly than Veera had seen yet. "Cool. Are the sausages done yet?"

"How do you tell they are done?" Veera asked.

Azra settled herself down and leaned close to the flames. "They're done when you're hungry and you don't want to wait any longer."

Veera was dubious, but she reminded herself she couldn't die from food poisoning. "In that case, they were done ten minutes ago," she announced with fake seriousness.

"Sweet." And Veera caught the brief flash of a smile- a real one.


	25. Interlude: Strange Friends

Find me way out there  
There's no road that will lead us back  
When you follow the strange trails  
They will take you who knows where  
If I found a way to stay with you tonight  
It would only make me late, for a date I can't escape

Strange Trails - Lord Huron

* * *

May 14, 2950; Michipicoten Island, Earth 

Azra slept by the fire, waking every few hours to re-bank the coals before drifting off again. Spark nestled himself in the crook between her neck and her shoulder and watched the night sky with a steady eye. The stars charted stately courses overhead. There were no Fallen.

The pair rose to a damp and chilly dawn. She woke the fire in true, left her gear by the flames to dry off the dew, and went for a swim. The water was icy cold and the rocks were slippery, yet she stayed in for nearly twenty minutes, laughing at the novelty of weightlessness and Light-given warmth. When she left, it was for her growling stomach.

Once dry and warm, she gathered her gear and hiked inland. She had nothing good for hunting small game and certainly didn't want to commit the rest of her day to skinning a caribou. Instead she settled for a breakfast of ramps and arrowhead tubers gathered from one of the inland lakes.

It was peaceful, and Azra took great pleasure in letting it wash over her. She found herself in meditative silence, thinking long, slow thoughts, turning her attention to the world around her instead of the turmoil within. The habits of wild-life were still settled deep in her bones. It was a part of her not even the Vex could quash.

The island was quiet. No ships, no Sparrows, not a single Dreg. It was nice. But like always, Azra grew restless. She needed to move.

* * *

May 15, 2950, 13:01; Contemplation, Old Portugal, Earth 

The cliff never had a name in her time. It was just a cliff. Her cliff.

Now the map said 'Contemplation', and there were two cairns of stone. One was made from the crumbly rock of the area, built by her own hands just months after she'd first Risen. After 81 years, it was covered in lichen, but still standing strong. The other cairn was a much more impressive piece, made of Martian sandstone and chalky Lunar crust and a dozen other kinds of stone besides. It was a pretty cool grave marker, Azra thought.

The wind off the sea was the same as ever. Azra sat on the edge and let her feet dangle, and it could have been any other year. She could almost pretend, except for the pain still weighing heavy in her chest.

She turned her head to the right, back away from the shoreline. Somewhere in that direction was a little cabin-shack nestled among the trees. It was the only structure within walking distance. Perhaps she had lived there in her first life. Maybe it hadn't been significant to her at all. She'd charted its location but had never gone inside.

"Do you regret not?" Spark asked. This life now, after escape, seemed like a second chance. One couldn't help but look back at the first one and wonder.

"…Nah," Azra said. "What could be in there that could make me feel better?" What if she found skeletons? What if she found a perfectly-preserved diary, detailing her whole first existence? Even then, it would only be things she'd have to leave behind.

What if she found nothing at all?

"It doesn't mean anything unless I  _make_  it mean something," she continued. "And why bother? Won't make me stronger. Won't give me hope. Just more burned bridges."

"Alright," Spark answered.

They sat in silence for a while. It was always quiet here. The wind never stopped.

She rose to her feet, nodded in respect at the horizon, then turned away from the cliff's edge. "Let's go."

Spark's eye lingered in the direction of the cabin for a moment more, then he zoomed off to be with his Guardian.

* * *

May 15, 2950, 15:53; The Last Safe City, Earth 

Cayde waved Veera over after she finished giving a report to Ikora. The Warlock noted with satisfaction that he didn't seem incredibly worried or preoccupied over Azra's vacation. (Or perhaps he was just hiding it? Cayde never seemed worried about anything.)

The Hunter Vanguard leaned against the table in a way that looked comfortable but probably wasn't. "Got a minute?" he drawled. "If you're still looking for another Hunter to round out your team, I been thinking, I have a few suggestions."

Veera blinked owlishsly at him. "I thought Azra was coming with us."

He did a double-take. "Uh, no. Says who?"

"Says… Azra? Did she not tell you?"

Cayde's face, despite being mechanical, did an excellent job of displaying rage. "I'm going to  _kill_  her," he growled

Of course Azra hadn't told anyone yet. She was taking a vacation. And what a fantastic way of learning a long-lost friend was going to go back to the same place they almost died: not from the friend, but from a mutual acquaintance?

"Oops," Veera's Ghost said.

* * *

May 17, 2950; 21:42; Bosawás, Earth 

It was hot and sticky in the jungle. Even at night, the humidity was so high it felt hard to draw breath. Azra was  _sweating_. At least the wind could reach a bit better up in the tree branches. Azra had wedged herself in a fork between limb and trunk and was doing her best to tune out the screaming frogs and insects so she could get a few hours of sleep.

She thought of bugs and frogs, how little their lives had changed over the centuries. There was still day and night, wind and rain. Whether it was a Human sleeping in their tree or a Fallen made little difference to them. She thought of the insects on Venus, native and introduced at the same time. She thought of travel.

Her thoughts inevitably wandered to the place they always went in the stiller moments. She still had to stop herself from reflexively messaging him jokes and funny turns of phrase she came across. (These insects are really  _bugging_  me, har har). She'd always worried Andal got too bored, standing at his workstation all day.

"I'd give nearly anything to have just one more talk with him," Azra mumbled.

Spark hovered before her. Their mental link was strong enough that they didn't need to say their words out loud. It just helped make things feel more real. "You knew him. Know him. You could imagine anything he would have to say."

Azra let her eyelids droop low. The two of them pondered imagination together. That was one of the big things that set the Vex apart from Humanity. Azra could sit here and dream up eventualities that had no chance of ever happening.

 _The Vex have their simulations_ , Spark pointed out.  _The Infinite Forest is an imagination machine_.

 _It's a_  derivation  _machine_ , Azra corrected.  _They take the current state of reality and alter variables until they get what they want. There's nothing new there. No spark of the impossible or the unknown. No wishful thinking_.

But the idea of simulation stuck with her. She sighed and leaned back until she was comfortable against the trunk, chin drooping to rest on her chest. The night was almost impossibly dark, even in the canopy. The leaves blocked the moonlight very well. As Azra drifted of, she thought of Andal.

Where would he be? Not here in the jungle. He always had a hatred of being damp. Somewhere dry. She fixed a place in her mind's eye: thirsty, hard-packed earth. Rock.

_The landscape here seems alien, though it is undeniably from Earth. The ground is dirt and stone, washed out from some previous flood. Large chunks and spires of rock seem to heave out of the earth, like breaching whales frozen in time, caught suspended at unreal angles. Dry shrubs and the occasional stubborn, twisted tree grow between the cracks in the stone. The quarter moon shines bright enough to cast crazy shadows, so the whole world seems fractured. The warm night is kept from being uncomfortable by the dry desert air._

_She paints him carefully in her mind's eye- every detail still fresh in her memory. That particular way he sat, limbs spilling everywhere, one leg drawn up close to his body. He looked so relaxed, but he could be on his feet in a heartbeat if he needed to. She imagines the coarse hairs of his beard, the ever-present spark of mischief in his dark eyes. The way his hood sits habitually on his head, hair unkempt and messy underneath. He never bothered fixing it, even in his Vanguard days._

_He sits beneath one of the stone buttresses. The angle of the formation isn't steep enough to give cover should the scrappy clouds open to rain, but it does provide a wall at his back. Dirt clings to his cape in steaks, settled into the seams and stitches. His armor is scuffed, laces askew. Stubble shadows his cheeks and jawline. His hands fidget with a pen as he stares into the fire. He always looks worried when he is deep in thought._

_This is not Vanguard Andal with his fresh-pressed cloak and the weight of the world on his shoulders. This is the Andal before that, cunning and vivacious and untamed. Irrepressible, sly, with his flame out for all the world to see._

" _Hey, Jax," he says, turning his head to look at her. He smiles- part happy, part sad. He takes a deep breath in and draws himself up a little bit, not so loose-limbed._

" _Hey, Andal." She settles herself across from the memory of him. The fire flickers warm in its shallow pit. There is no wood pile. Azra pushes aside the small sense of shame (what is she doing here?) and focuses._

" _What brings you here?" he asks casually. Too casually. But it's oddly hard to hold onto things here. The fire is just an impression of one- looking at it brings the feeling of safety and home. It scatters bits of memory- snatches of laughter, the smell of food cooking, the tinkling of charcoal- in her mind like swirling sparks._

_She turns her gaze to Andal instead. "I missed you," she says, taking in the sight of him. The pen he holds shines bright in the firelight. His Light is tinged with sadness._

" _I thought I told you to take care of yourself," he admonishes. It's not the wistful, warm scolding he would have given. It has a bite of actual anger to it._

_Azra is confused. "I… am?" She's kept herself alive, in better physical condition than she was three days ago. She feels for Spark, relieved to feel him resting on her knee in the waking world. She's fine, she's alive, just toeing the edge between consciousness and dream._

" _You're not…" His face screws up in disbelief. "How are you here?"_

_This isn't how this was supposed to be going. She isn't trying to imagine Andal being confusing like this. She wanted to apologize, get herself a bit of closure, but…_

_She isn't trying to imagine Andal._

_She is not imagining anything. None of this is her._

_Fear seizes her when she realizes she doesn't have control of the situation. She doesn't think she can handle getting trapped anywhere else. The fire flickers low, as if physically repressed by the panic. Azra's head whips up, casting about, but there's nothing to indicate anything wrong._

_She just has no idea where she is. She gets the feeling she's not supposed to be here. Everything seems just a bit too dim and distant._

" _What the hell_ happened  _to you?" he asks. Andal is anguished. A little scared. He reaches out to grab her hand, then seems to think better of it and twines his fingers together. Azra looks behind her and realizes she doesn't cast a shadow. The sense of wrongness chafes._

" _I'm not dead," she insists, the last word sitting heavy on her tongue. This is a dead place. The last bit of disbelief shatters. Andal is here, wherever here is, and he's dead. Kaput. End of story._

" _I know that," he says. "I can tell that. How in the wide world of sports are you here?"_

"' _Wide world of sports'?" she quotes. Well, she doesn't appear to be in any genuine danger. And the man across from her… undeniably Andal. The near-incomprehensible reference only serves to drive it home. "I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating at this point," Azra says. "Never thought it would be like this." She sighs and leans her elbows on her knees. What was Andal's age-old advice? When in doubt, crack a joke. "Why couldn't I have hallucinated anyone pretty?"_

_He chokes on his disbelief. "You're seriously… You come all this way just to insult me?"_

" _You're not even naked," she laments._

" _You've seen me naked," Andal said._

" _Yes, but this time, I could have imagined you had abs."_

_They look at each other for a beat. The fear in the air melts to incredulity and the repressed giddiness of waiting for someone to catch on. Andal slaps a hand to his face and breaks out in guffaws. Azra can't resist for long, and soon the boulders echo with their laughter._

" _Oooohhh," Andal crows as the giggles subside. "Just… never change, Azra."_

" _Too late," she says. She means it jokingly, but the when the sound bounces back off the stone, the desert rings with her loss. She loses the grin. Her voice cracks. "I… I already-"_

_She stares down at her hands, scarred, proof of the Vex's damage, their control even here and now. She will have mementos of her time in the Vault until she dies her final death. Past that, even._

_A tan, unblemished hand reaches out and takes hers, turning it over. It is blessedly solid and real. "It's a reminder of how strong you are," Andal murmurs. "Look at how much you've survived. Without the Traveler's help, without_ my _help. You continue to blow me away."_

" _I'm sorry I left," she confesses. "I never meant to. I tried so hard-"_

" _You came back," he says. He squeezes her hand reassuringly. "That's all that matters to me. If you're not angry with me… well, I learned my lesson not to argue with you. I'll take it."_

_This reality is paper-thin. She focuses on the tingling in her hands and everything else falls slightly out of focus. Azra feels the waking world hanging over her like a frozen wave about to break and sweep everything away._

_She looks back up in his eyes, grief constricting her throat. He smiles that charming smile that says_ everything is okay _, and Azra finds enough innocence left in her to believe it._

_Then Andal glares and. "Now get the hell out of here, and don't you even think about coming back until you're dead good and proper, you hear?"_

_She pulls back. Everything is becoming a bit too sharp, though something solid has settled in her chest. The screeching of rainforest bugs bleeds through into the still air. "Honestly, I don't know how to process this, so I'm not even going to try."_

" _Pretty sure you won't remember this anyway." Who is that speaking?_

_She grins. "Good. Don't think I could take five more minutes of staring at your ugly face."_

" _I'll have you know I am rated with four peppers on the VanNet forums."_

" _Four out of a hundred? Harsh."_

_He scoffs in mock outrage and lobs a stick at her._

* * *

Azra woke with a start. The jungle was filled with the cacophony of thousands of crickets and cicadas all trying to be heard over everyone else.

"That was weird," Spark said.

"What… was that? You were watching?" Azra asked.

Her Ghost have the mental equivalent of a shrug. "You teased Andal a bunch, he forgave you, then threw a stick at your head."

Azra frowned. "I don't remember the stick. Was I dead?"

"Not by my count."

"Huh."

"Quite the mystery, though."

There was quiet for a moment (aside from the constant screeching insects).

"Screw mysteries," Azra said with feeling. "I'm not looking under the hood of a gift Sparrow."

"… But remember that one time Mot Balek-"

She groaned and stretched her arms. "It's an expression, Spark. I'm not talking about that time Mot Balek rigged a Sparrow-bomb and gave it to me as a joke."

"Alright," Spark said. "If you say so."

She hoisted herself into a standing position. "I can't sleep here. Let's get out of this damn bug hell."

"Copy that."

* * *

May 18, 2950, 15:04; The Last Safe City, Earth 

She was walking back from the library when a rough hand pressed down on her shoulder, forcefully steering her into a side alley. Veera let herself be pushed, out of surprise more than defeat.

It was a lean and tough-looking Hunter with a half-mad look in his eye. "Let me make one thing explicitly clear to you," the man hissed, hostile out of the gate. "I am holding you personally responsible for what happens to Azra in there."

"W-what?"

"You heard me." The man, despite only being a few inches taller than Veera, loomed over her. The razor-sharp tip of his knife was pressed into the spot between her eyes. "If Azra Jax dies in the Vault, consider yourself dead as well."

"You-"

"I have killed people before." His eyes were cold and steady. Too steady. "Risen, even. Do not mistake me for a braggart."

"No, sir!" Veera said. Fear made her voice enthusiastic. The Hunter's face shifted into an even deeper scowl. If Veera had been more superstitious, she might have said he was hexing her with his eyes. They were an oddly vibrant shade of green for a human and seemed to bore into her soul.

"I warned you. Don't bother coming back without her," he rumbled, then abruptly pushed back and strode away. Before he'd even reached the end of the block, he disappeared into thin air.

Veera stood there a moment, trying to catch her breath.

"Azra Jax has some strange friends," her Ghost commented

* * *

May 19, 2950, 16:14, near Old Ljubljana, Earth 

Azra breathed slowly, deliberately. The current of the brook spooled pleasantly around her ankles. The water was cold, but the feeling was refreshing now that she was used to it. The woods were alive with birdsong and wind and the more minor rustlings of squirrels and mice. She pulled the peace around her like a blanket and let the warmth of the sunlight sink into her tired muscles.

Azra watched the water with half-lidded eyes. Small fish strived against the current, darting between rocks and submerged branches. Azra could catch and eat them, she knew. She took pleasure in the thought that she didn't need to. She wasn't hungry. She could sit and watch them in benevolence, noting the small dramas as they competed for space and snapped at water bugs.

Azra turned her focus inward- to the steady input and output of breath, the blood in her veins, the feel of her armor against her body, the prickle of goosebumps rising up her arms-

Everything snapped into place suddenly and her knife was in the air before she knew what she was throwing it at. She couldn't say exactly what had alerted her- not sound, certainly; not even the birds had noticed the approach. Perhaps her Lightsense had picked up the barest hint of something.

The figure was thirty yards away. It was a Guardian in sun-bleached gear. One hand was on the hilt of his gun, the other hand gripped the knife in his chest. He had a well-worn look to him.

Azra's brain immediately went  _Jaren_ , but that couldn't be. Jaren was dead.

Then again, hadn't she been 'dead' just a few weeks ago?

The point was moot as the figure crumpled to its knees and then keeled over into the dirt. Azra was already running to his aid, swearing internally. She ignored the rocks and sticks under her bare feet.

He was dead before she reached him. Her aim had been true- the knife had pierced his heart. His Ghost (a part of her sighed in relief as it appeared) hovered low over the body.

It gave her pause. She knew that Ghost. The tan-and-aqua shell was just as it was sixty years ago. The shiny-gold-compass feel of Jaren Ward's Toho was nostalgic and familiar.

The man it hovered over… was not. The cloak was different. The gear was different. More than that, the Light that gathered around him was not the same. He was Solar, even more than Jaren, even more than Cayde. The scent of burning sage filled her nose, marred by the barest hint of something… acrid.

When he rose again, he shone as brightly as the Sun. Anger and despair were tempered by righteousness. Jaren had never been so bitter. Azra backed up a few steps. Spark transmatted her boots back on to her feet and her sidearm back onto her belt.

The man coughed and splayed a hand on his chest where the knife had gone in. Azra couldn't make his expression inside his helmet. Toho transmatted the blade into the man's other hand. Azra grit her teeth and kept her eye on it.

"You're Azra Jax," the Gunslinger said, half-question, half-statement. His voice was deep and rough, with an accent similar to Jaren's, stronger.

"Who are you?" Azra asked in turn. Not denying was as good as a confirmation. She put her hands on her belt. Then, after a pause, "… Sorry 'bout the whole killing you thing." It didn't sound too convincing. She hadn't tried to make it. Something about this man had her hackles up. He twirled her knife between his fingers expertly.

"Name's Shin Malphur. I'm Jaren Ward's successor." Was that why Toho floated over his shoulder? All of Azra's knowledge said one Ghost, one Guardian, but…

That curiosity could wait. Shin tossed Azra's knife back in her direction. She caught it deftly and immediately returned it to its sheath. The man's hand finally left the grip of his cannon, and Azra relaxed marginally. "I got something for you," he said.

Then, with little fanfare, a scout rifle was transmatted into his hands.  _Azra's_  scout rifle. There was new detailing- a new scope, other modifications and adjustments added on, but Azra had spent far too long with that gun over her shoulder not to recognize it immediately. She'd left it in her vault during the Vault- she'd only kept the it for sentimental reasons in the first place. It had become outclassed as technology advanced.

The man gestured with it. Azra sized up the space between them. Shin was steady on his feet, not overly tense or overly relaxed. He had knives, sure, but the rifle was obviously unloaded. The gleaming gun on his hip was familiar.

Azra realized what was bothering her. Her locator was off. She wasn't actively logged on to the City channels, except for the brief ping sequences Spark sent direct to Cayde. This man had intercepted the ping she'd sent out over eighty minutes ago and had tracked her here.

"Why now?" she asked.

The man was rock-steady and still. He didn't shift or shrug. "I heard you were back. Rumor travels fast. Thought, this rightly belongs to you. Can't sit around all week waitin' for you to head back Cityside."

Azra stepped forward, not quite unable to chase the anxiety from her muscles. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Yet Azra had learned to trust her gut.

He handed the gun over matter-of-factly. Azra took a step back as she inspected it. Really, she was evaluating Shin's Light. There was something still vaguely sinister about him. He was dangerous, but not Jaren-dangerous, driven to protect kindness and right wrongs. This man was grounded in harsher convictions.

She had to admit he didn't appear to mean her immediate harm. He was tense, too, but not in an anticipatory way. She backed off enough for personal space, but not quite enough to be rude, and finally turned her attention to the gun. Adelante was… in really good shape. She'd have to go over all the modifications later, but-

"Thanks," she said, letting sincerity creep into her voice. There was something grounding about holding her old rifle again. It had seen her though Twilight Gap and Mare Ibrium. She looked up from the gun to meet Shin's gaze, still blocked by his helmet. A small frown pulled at her lips. "How is it  _you_ had this?"

Shin was oddly matter-of-fact. "I killed the man who rightly owned it."

Azra's body tensed around the gun. She looked Shin straight in the visor and made no attempt to hide the confused and angry expression on her face. The detail work was obviously Pahanin. Logically, as the last surviving member of her fireteam, in absence of a will, the gun would have gone to him.

Shin put his hands up. "It wasn't Pahanin. It was the man who killed Pahanin." Truth rang in his words.

Azra sighed and let Spark take Adelante. "That sounds like a story." She wasn't in a mood for stories right now.

Shin seemed to pick up on that and kept it brief. "Was a Guardian, renamed himself Dredgen Yor and started a murdering spree."

Dredgen Yor? She'd heard that before.

* * *

_"Oh, I've got nothing on you. I've about eight or nine months now. It's been crazy. Rasputin and the Array, and that crazy Hive ritual that had all hands on deck a while back…"_

_Azra nodded her head like she had any idea what the Warlock was talking about._

_"Still, probably seemed like nothing next to Twilight Gap. Or the Great Disaster. Or the Dredgen Yor business-"_

_Azra ate another spoonful of soup. She wasn't exactly unexperienced with Warlocks, but usually they didn't start rambling on you unless you gave them a reason. She didn't have any good strategies to make the stream of words stop._

* * *

"'Eternal Abyss?'" Azra asked.

"Where did you hear that from?" Shin asked. His voice remained neutral, perhaps a bit surprised, but it was impossible to miss the shade of suspicion in his Light.

"Hey, blame him," Azra said, hooking a thumb at her Ghost. "He's the one who's into old languages."

Shin turned his suspicion on Spark in a way that made Azra feel incredibly uncomfortable. She changed the subject. "So, I'm guessing they gave my stuff to Pahanin, then you got it once you offed Yor?"

"Yes," the man said, clipped.

"I really am sorry about killing you," Azra said, sincere this time. "You did kind of sneak up on me."

"I wasn't trying to sneak," the man intoned, crossing his arms, "and most people don't have a personal space bubble of sixty yards."

"Gorgon can erase you from further," Azra countered.

There was a mildly agreeable silence, and both Hunters stood there looking at each other.

Azra wondered at the other reason Shin had tracked her down. If he was only here to give her the gun, he would have left already. He didn't seem the sociable type, and Azra wasn't being particularly welcoming. Still he loitered like the last guest at a party.

"Why are you so tense?" Shin asked out of the blue. Azra realized she was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"I'm not used to people still after the Vault and the fact that you either tracked me down off of a one-off ping or have been watching my movement patterns is giving me the heebie jeebies," Azra responded blithely. She crossed her arms and lowered her weight back on her heels. "What's got you so tense?"

"The first thing you did was kill me."

She quirked an eyebrow, all too aware of how visible her face was. Shin's helmet remained unreadable. "And?"

"I spend a lot of time seeking Guardians who've been corrupted by the Darkness." Unspoken there was the assumption that Azra was a potential threat. She had to it admit, it did make sense. Azra hadn't given in to Ahamkara whispers or gone about murdering Ghosts, but she had walked a long time in a very Dark place. If anyone was at risk of falling, it would be her.

It made sense, but it still put her in an uncomfortable position. She spread her hands in a peaceful gesture, trying not to sound accusatory. "Good to know there's someone out there looking out for that. I'll try not to take it personal. Am I coming across as a maniacal killer?"

He paused, shook his head. "You just look… tired."

Whatever judgement he passed on her, it passed, and he nodded. She nodded. He turned to leave, and Azra felt the peace of solitude settle like a weighted blanket in the back of her mind, and the words came out of her mouth.

"And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about Jaren. He was a good man. One of the best I've known."

Shin stopped. "You knew him well?" He was trying to keep the interest out of his voice. Of course Jaren's past would be important to him.

"I met him at Twilight Gap," Azra explained. "It was… a dark time for me. I like to think I'm a better person today for having known him."

"Dredgen Yor killed him, too," Shin said. His voice was cold.

Azra huffed out a sigh of grief and looked back up at the sky. "Everyone dies," she said. "And everything ends. The system's a little darker now without him in it." Jaren always had his stuff figured out. She longed for just a scrap of his advice.

* * *

_"-But why you do things matters." Jaren nodded firmly. "It does. Matters more than the things themselves, sometimes."_

* * *

Why had Azra gone into the Vault? A bit of ego, perhaps, and it wasn't as if she wouldn't celebrate the destruction of that particular Vex fortress, but the real reason-

The real reason was because Kabr had asked her. Andal, in his own way, had asked her. He'd wanted someone he trusted on the job. And when someone called for help, it was not in Azra's nature to say no.

Now, sure, there was the spark of vengeance lit in her, her horror at the Vex's machinations, the stubborn refusal to go quietly… but in the end, it was because Veera had asked for help. She couldn't just say no.

 _If we're walking back into hell_ , Spark whispered,  _at least it's for a good reason_.

"Nothing can be done," Shin said, breaking her out of her reverie.

"Ah, he's not gone," Azra said, finally believing it, if only a little bit. "He still gives pretty good advice."

Shin turned and left with a nod. Azra stood for a long moment after he left. Spark re-transmatted Adelante back into her hands.

Azra slung the gun over her shoulder, and for the first time since leaving the Vault, felt like something more. More Hunter, less hunted. Not so defined by loss.

"Let's go home," she said. Home wasn't a place, it was people. She was tired of being alone.

* * *

May 19, 2950, 16:34; The Last Safe City, Earth 

Azra drew herself up, tall and proud. She walked the quiet, smooth stride that was settled into her bones and let confidence tilt up her chin and set back her shoulders. Adelante was a comforting weight at her back.

She reached the door to his room and paused. This wasn't going to be easy, she knew. She'd decided one-by-one was the best way to break the news. Everyone would have different arguments-

She opened the door. Cayde was off work. Cayde was waiting for her.

Cayde was pissed as hell. The entire room seethed with it. His optics were hard and unflinching. His hands were balled into fists.

Azra shifted in the doorway. "Veera spilled the beans, didn't she." The look Cayde gave her told the whole story. Azra sighed. "Dumb Warlocks. No sense of timing."

"When were you planning on telling me?" Cayde asked accusingly.

"Right now," Azra said. Truth.

That stopped him for a moment, but, "This isn't happening," Cayde said.

"Yes, it is," Azra shot back, just as stubborn. She stood in the doorway a moment longer, then stepped through and closed it behind her.

"Just… why?" Cayde ground out.

"Remember Mare Ibrium?" Azra asked. Cayde started a bit, which Azra took as a yes.

" _I'm_  the one with experience," she continued. "I'm the only one who knows up from down, and it'll be a complete disaster without me."

"You don't need to do this," Cayde said.

She considered that for a moment. "That's not really true. What is important is that  _they_  need me to do this."

"Screw them!" Cayde yelled. "You're not going. I forbid it."

She just blinked at him. "Are you serious?"

"I'm the Vanguard now. I say, let someone else do it."

"Who?" she shot back. "Who would do as good a job? Who else has even the vaguest  _guess_  of what is down there?"

Cayde glared accusingly. "You just can't accept the way things are now. You're running."

Low blow. Azra pulled her lips back in a grimace. "This has nothing to do with Andal," she said.

"You're leaving again."

"I'm no-"

"Yes you are! You're going back! For no goddamn reason!"

"Would you  _listen_  to me?" she hissed.

She expected Cayde to argue back, but he crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly. That was… not a Cayde move. He'd learned patience. She took a moment to catch her breath, push aside the anger.

"Veera's fireteam- they're going in, with or without me," she explained. "I can't sit by and watch as more people die to the Vex, Cayde. And frankly… I don't know if they could find their way without me. They're all very straight-laced. But I am confident they can take everything the Vault can throw at them. We'll make it back. Promise."

"Why now?" Cayde asked.

"They've already delayed enough for me. And…" She gave up on trying to hide it. "I... I can't keep living like this. It's already haunting me. I got a sword hanging over my head."

"So you're running," he re-stated.

She spread her hands before her. "You don't get it. I've seen what they're planning in there. I haven't… really left. It is impossible to put behind me when it's ahead of me, too. It's outside of time. I can't keep living in the shadow of the Vault. It's just too much."

"It's too  _dangerous,_ " Cayde said again.

"It's worth the risk." She couldn't believe after Mare Ibrium, after the Dare, that Cayde could stand here and talk the danger game at her with a straight face. "It's something that needs to be done. I don't want anyone else to do it. I gotta see Atheon die with my own eyes."

"It isn't like you," Cayde said. "Personal pride isn't anything to stake your existence on."

"How is it different from Taniks, then?" she hissed.

Cayde  _flinched._  "Ah, you're still mad about that, aren't you?"

Azra stared at him wordlessly.

* * *

The glare Azra gave him was… yeah. She was still mad.

"It's too dangerous," Cayde changed the subject back. "We're not gonna lose you again."

"And I don't want to lose you," she soothed.

"You _left_!" he yelled. "You already went and left us! How can you just leave, again?" Azra looked stunned. Cayde just kept going. "How little do you care about me? About us? Less than your  _revenge_." He knew it wasn't true, but he was bitter and desperate. She was slipping away.

He expected her to bite back, but she was silent for a long moment. She lowered herself into a chair and stared dully out the window, white as a ghost. That was… not an Azra move. She'd learned to give up.

"I'm sorry that this hurts you," she said. Her voice carried honesty and despair. "I don't want to cause you any more… grief. But this is something I can't not do. I can't sit by and watch as more people go in there and… cease existing. I can't live my life, every second, every day, knowing that the Vex are getting closer and closer to a timeline where I don't exist." Her eyes met his. "Or where you don't exist. They're a threat to  _everything_ , Cayde. I can't ignore that. However much it hurts you. I'm sorry."

* * *

Cayde slouched against the table next to her. She bowed her head. "Don't ask me to stay," she pleaded. "I can't stay. I just can't. This is already hard enough."

He stumbled. "I just… I can't- I can't  _lose_  you again." He'd done his best to hide his grief from her, but here, now, she could read him like a book.

"Oh Cayde," she sighed, levering herself back upright. She cupped a hand to his cheek, feeling the cold metal warm slightly under her fingers. "You gotta let me go."

He grabbed her wrist, tight, like he could physically hold her there. Cyan optics searched gray eyes.

Whatever he saw there, he sighed and let go. "…Okay." He looked defeated.

Azra stepped close and threw her arms around him. She'd missed him, down in that cavern.

"Would anything ever be enough?" He asked. "To stop you from going back?"

"I'm already there," she murmured. "I'm not out of it yet. I just wanna be free." She buried her face in his shoulder- his cape still smelled faintly of Andal. "I missed you, so much."

"I missed you, too," he said. Azra could picture the pout on his face. "You broke my heart, you know. Leaving like that."

"I didn't know what I was doing." A poor excuse, but the only one she had.

"It doesn't seem much like you know what you're doing now."

"I think if anyone could ever know what they were doing in the Vault, it would be me." She pulled back and sighed.

* * *

She looked less defeated now, but that irrepressible spark had been dimmed. Tempered, perhaps. Forged into steely determination.

"Why not take Tevis?" Cayde bargained. If she was going back down, he could at least send someone he trusted to watch her back.

She frowned. "Tevis gives up too easily." That… was true, he admitted.

"Shiro?"

"Shiro can never leave anything alone. He'd nitpick himself insane in there."

"And me?" He asked boldly. Maybe, just maybe-

She smiled fondly at him. "You got other obligations."

"Don't remind me," Cayde grumbled.

Azra laughed. Really, actually  _laughed_. Cayde had to stop himself from staring.

"You technically lost that bet," Azra said.

"What bet?" Cayde asked.

Spark played the audio.

_"Here's the proposition. No touching this Dare at all, just what happens after. You lose this deal, you got five years to take and win another Dare. If'n you don't, I get all your turns to call where camp is. Forever. If you do, you get mine."_

_"You'd bet all your campsites on me to get me out of there quicker?"_

_"Forever's never as long as you think it'll be. I can win 'em back later. I just got a real bad feeling about all of this."_

_"Bet,"_

_"Witnessed and noted."_

"… Guess you're right," Cayde admitted.

She had the most Andal-like spark of mischief in her eye. "How about a bet, then? High-stakes, Andal-style."

"What're the terms?" Cayde asked.

"If I'm not back in say… five weeks, you can have your campsites back."

He crossed his arms. "Nuh-uh. I'm getting all of them. Yours to. Five weeks is a hell of a long time."

"And what will you stake against all of the campsites?" Azra asked.

He thought for a long moment. "I'll make you second." As Andal's second, Cayde naturally lead the pack now.

"You didn't pick one?" she asked.

"Not much use with only three members."

She shrugged, then a thought crossed her mind. "Wait, five weeks on whose end? 'Cause like, what if it takes five weeks for me, then we come out and it's been only two hours?"

* * *

May 19, 2950, 19:14; The Last Safe City, Earth 

Tevis opened the door to find two fairly inebriated Hunters already occupying the room.

"Blood pact!" Azra crowed in greeting.

Tevis took a second to re-evaluate. There were crumpled papers scattered everywhere. Cayde and Azra sat at the table. Between them sat a half-empty bottle of whiskey, a neater stack of papers, and a still-bloody knife.

"I hear you're going back in the Vault," Tevis said.

That killed the mood fast. The smile fell from Azra's face. She put her drink down so careful one would think it liable to explode.

Azra, for all her charms, was not very good at lying. She was always a bit of an open book. Times like this, she might as well as had a neon light over her head flashing 'nervous' and 'worried'. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I'm going back in."

"And you think it's a good idea?" he asked.

The resolve in her face spoke volumes. She shrugged. "Not a good one, but the best one we got. I can't just stand still."

Tevis let the point slide for the moment and moved to stand by the table. "What is this?" He motioned to the neat stack of papers by Cayde's right elbow.

"This," Cayde said, flipping back to the first page, "is the most complicated bet of all time."

"Jesus. Are those tables?" Tevis snatched the report from his hands and leafed through. Indeed, there were tables, charts, and… "Appendix A: Nonlinear Time Shennaniganry? Appendix B: In Case of Death."

"Oooh, don't forget Appendix D for Dare!"

He flipped to the appropriate page. "You took the Dare?"

Azra had a gleam in her eye. "If time BS happens and I get out in the future  _and_ Cayde is dead  _and_  the Vanguard spot is unfilled with no other Dares ongoing  _and_ I flip a coin and it comes up tails. Then Vanguard Azra."

"The coin's just there for dramatic effect," Cayde explained.

Tevis frowned and looked at Azra. "And you just… took it?"

"Oh, I've put up some  _very_  good counter-offers," Cayde drawled.

The old Nightstalker shook his head and thumbed through the pages. "How deep does this rabbit hole go?" he asked.

"There are two hundred and fiffy-six possible outcomes," Spark supplied. "We've been quite thorough."

That was frankly ridiculous. "I've got a headache," Tevis complained. It was the similar overwhelmed feeling he used to get when Andal-

Oh. He glanced up from the pages and really looked at the two of them. There was an eagerness in Azra that she'd been missing. Cayde was more at ease. Both of them were smiling, thick as thieves.

... Okay, he could deal with this.

Azra waggled the whiskey at him plyingly. After a moment, he took it and uncapped the bottle, taking a swig. He sat down in the empty chair with a grunt. "Wait. Okay. Walk me through this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, this was supposed to be up weeks ago. Better late than never, I guess?


	26. There Is Hope

If storms are breaking over great escapes  
Boy, we'll find how to make it with the rain  
This rage will lead us through the burning plains  
No matter what they say, we're heroes, boy we'll get to break out

Now we're finally standing up to the sky  
Look at me, boy, what is fate to say  
How things are gonna turn out now?

Great Escapes – Woodkid

* * *

May 21, 2950, 14:14; The Last City, Earth

The Tower hadn't changed much. There was shiny new tech everywhere, but the floorplan had remained relatively unaltered over the last half a century. There were still way too many meeting rooms and way too few windows.

Cayde's room (for all it was the pack's officially) was too… Cayde. Decks of cards, bullets, and spare datapads littered every available space. Azra needed somewhere to do gun maintenance. Wouldn't you know it, the block of conference rooms in the Tower North was still mostly empty.

Azra was not surprised when Shiro opened the door. She'd been expecting him, in reality. She'd already spoken with Cayde and Tevis in private. If anything, she was surprised he hadn't sought her out sooner.

The Bladedancer had some sense of finality in his Light. He practically stomped up to Azra's table and plonked several items down on it. A glass bottle full of dark liquid. A familiar knife. A strange vest with intricate fasteners.

"Consider my debts repaid," he announced. Azra couldn't make full sense of the mixture of anger, satisfaction, and regret he was projecting.

She carefully set down the rifle stock and looked at the items. "Debts? What debts?"

"You never kept track, but I did. All said and done, I think this covers everything. That armor wasn't easy to get, or cheap."

Azra sighed. It seemed the old regrets ran both ways. "Shiro, I didn't care-"

" _I_  did," the Exo said, and that was the end of that conversation. Azra turned her attention to the armor piece. Her fingers tingled and hummed as they passed over the tubing.

"Raiden Flux," Shiro explained. "It's me to amplify, direct, and multiply Arc flow. It's a custom piece. Bladedancers are flashes of lightning, but you…"

"Does it work?" Azra interrupted.

Shiro shrugged. "For me? Doubt it. For you? Who knows? It's commissioned. I can take you to the guy who did it-"

"Nah," she said. Spark took the armor. Azra inspected the whiskey and passed it off to him as well. The knife went on her belt. "I… thank you." What else was there to say?

"You're not going to ask us to stop?" Spark questioned.

"I've had a while to come to terms with… this," Shiro said. "So I'm withholding my judgement. For now."

There was a moment of amicable silence. Shiro turned his optics downward. Azra caught the moment he recognized the gun on the table- his eyebrow plates went shooting up in surprise. "How… did you-"

"Shin Malphur himself paid me a visit. Just handed it over, easy as falling off a log. Don't particularly  _like_ him, but…"

Shiro chuckled. "Just… the way you said that. Thought you'd like our esteemed Gunslinger, seein' how close you were with Jaren."

Azra scowled. "One thing for certain, Shin is not Jaren Ward. Dunno. Maybe it was just a bad first impression. I… may have kind of got him on reflex with a throwing knife."

"Well, getting murdered does tend to ruffle peoples' feathers a bit. May I?" He gestured to the gun.

* * *

_"Can I see your rifle?" Shiro asked. His optics had lit up as soon as Azra had mentioned her new gun, eager to get a closer look._

_"Shiro's our resident gun expert," Andal explained when the Kinderguardian looked reluctant. "He won't break it."_

* * *

Azra nodded and leaned back. Shiro scooted a chair over and set upon the gun with ravenous curiosity. Arcstrider and Ghost watched him, drinking in the honeyed simplicity of the moment. Just like old times. Shiro still made little faces while he worked. He was surprised. Pahanin had done master-level work on the gun.

"I'll let you play with it some when I get back from the raid," Azra offered. Shiro looked up to meet her eyes, questioning the promise in the word 'when'. Not the uncertainty of 'if'.

Azra nodded at him firmly.

Shiro took it with a steady acceptance and turned back to the weapon. Azra did not miss the small smile that remained on his features.

* * *

May 23, 2950 22:31; The Last City, Earth

Azra sighed into her cup of tea. The steam reflected back on her face, humid and hot, in contrast to the stuffy atmosphere. Ikora Rey liked her library dry, it seemed. Maybe it helped with the books. There was an expansive window, but the relative darkness outside mirrored the glass, so all she saw when she looked over was the picture of a Warlock and a Hunter having a discussion.

Well, less of a discussion and more of an interview. Or interrogation. It was clear in the picture. The Hunter's eyes were wary, and where the Warlock would sit straight or lean forward attentively, the Hunter leaned back as far as they could. Logically, Azra understood information on the Vault was a hot commodity, and anything she could give would help-

* * *

_Azra heaved a sigh and leaned back against the wall. Her fingers tapped restlessly on the examination table while she tried to quell the anxiety that simmered in her stomach. She felt practically naked without her cloak, armor, and weaponry. Logically she knew that Osiris meant well, but the spotlight of the Warlock's focus only made her more uneasy. "Why did I agree to do this?" She murmured._

* * *

Yet there was a bitter taste in her mouth, and it wasn't the tea.

"I don't like this," she said during a pause. All the talking of the past hours had loosened her tongue. "It wasn't fun when Osiris did it and it's not fun now."

Ikora frowned ever-so-slightly. "I don't know what you're referring to." She tapped at her datapad even as she spoke. Her Ghost (Azra had never learned their name) floated steady over her shoulder.

"I don't like being…" Azra paused to pick the right word, "studied. It's dehumanizing." She mulled on the sense of vulnerability for a moment before placing it aside. There was something about Ikora Rey, or this situation, that was setting her on edge more than she'd expected.

Ikora Rey set her stylus down. "The information you've given me is invaluable."

"Which is why I've given it. Doesn't make this pleasant." Azra turned her gaze away from the Warlock, only to catch the reflection of her in the window. She did not want to be here, doing this. Ikora Rey was not Osiris, she had only curiosity where Osiris had paranoia and mistrust, but…

Azra clamped down on the urge to fidget. The chair was as uncomfortable as Ikora's undivided attention. She shouldn't have brought it up.

Sympathy was in Ikora's Light, with a sharp edge of alienation. Azra wanted to smack herself for forgetting the ease with which Ikora could read thoughts. Watching her tongue was a skill long practiced, but it was too easy to let rude thoughts slip by.

Ikora Rey offered distraction in the form of another question. Azra answered some what automatically, letting Spark do most of the work to decipher an answer from the tangle of their memories.

Azra's mind was already elsewhere. The sound of waves against the cliff soothed her frayed nerves. The fresh, vital sea air. The rock beneath her. The slightest sense of vertigo looking over the edge. The clouds scattered on the horizon, how she could read them like her own moods, like she was not separate from the world, but a part of it.

Ikora broke her reverie. "What is that place you keep thinking of?"

Azra imagined the breeze on her face. "Where I was rezzed. The first time."

"It seems like an incredibly peaceful place," Ikora offered.

Azra chuckled a bit. The events of that first night played over in her head. 'Peaceful' it hadn't been. She remembered waking, running, the deep, intrinsic, existential panic. The tiny pool of light in the distance. Falling. Then…

"He was my friend, too," Ikora said.

Azra turned her gaze to her mirror-self in the window. The expression on her face was one of sadness and deep thought. "You knew him for longer than I did," Azra mused. "How unfair is that?"

The time for platitudes were over (or, at the very least, they could wait). Azra collected her stray thoughts and drew herself together. There was really only one thing they hadn't touched on. "I'm pretty sure Osiris is still alive," she confided. Would Ikora care? The pair hadn't split on the best of terms.

There was a glimmer of something unidentifiable in the Warlock Vanguard's eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less." Her Light was proud. Perhaps a bit relieved.

Azra wanted to tell her of the confusion of it, how the Forest was linked to time in a way the Vault wasn't, yet still drew on the Vault's power in a way, how impossible it was to resolve some knowledge to linearity. Osiris lived in the Infinite Forest. He occupied a significant temporal space. Where he ended or began or continued… she tried to pull the strings, but everything just tangled.

Sometimes Azra wanted to scream, and scream, and not stop until she had poured all the grief and confusion and agony out of herself and burned it to ashes. As if she could purge it from her soul.

She thrust herself back into the present with mental violence, walling up the sensitive parts of herself. Ikora Rey was not someone she trusted with her heart.

"One thing I never did understand," the Warlock said, "was the animosity between you two. Osiris was never the forgiving type, but I always thought it went deeper than petty insults."

Azra gritted her teeth. "He thought I was… a Vex construct, or something. The way my Light worked. He never explained it very clearly. I think… I  _think_  it's just the Vault." Her hands curled into fists on the table. "Maybe it's just nonlinear, and the Vex are nonlinear, and that's where the similarity comes from." She did her best to ignore the voice still whispering  _what if it's not_. Down that road was nothing but madness.

"Any guesses I could make would be only guesses." Ikora at least had the manners to sound apologetic about it.

"Figures."

"But for what it's worth, I don't believe that. Personally." Azra turned her eyes back the Warlock, but she didn't need them to read the sincerity in the room. Ikora continued, "None of us know whether we're doing the right thing, in the long run. You should hear some of my colleagues debate. Yet I don't think anyone could look at you and think you're doing wrong by us."

That was Hunter understanding. Social obligation. Intention. So Azra did the Hunter thing and brought up her most pressing issue. Why she was still so uncomfortable in this room. It'd taken a while to pin down the source of her mistrust, but-

"I think what's got me wary is… you've never cared particularly for the opinions of Hunters before." Several memories of dismissals ran through her mind, and she let Ikora see them. The Ikora of before-the-Vault had been haughty, judgmental, and frankly, rude. Typical Warlock behavior. Several unpleasant conversations ran through her mind. The Ikora of today hadn't shown anything but curiosity and concern, but…

"I'm sorry," Ikora said with honesty.

"I was young," Azra raised her chin in challenge. She felt the same anger for her past self as she would someone talking down to any newbie Hunter. "And I didn't know enough to not take it to heart." The sharp edge of broken trust was like a papercut on her heart. She hadn't particularly cared before, but sitting here and being interviewed (interrogated?) was rubbing salt in the wound.

Ikora shifted in her chair, uncomfortable now. Her Light coiled about her tightly. "I will admit in my younger days, I thought… less of people like you. Hunters. I thought you selfish and easily distracted. It has taken… time, to see that isn't true. It is too easy to let assumption and stereotype alter your perceptions."

Blood for blood, Azra supposed. She hadn't been faultless in that regard, either. "I… thought you lacked perspective, in moments I'm not proud of. Out-of-touch, unwilling to do the actual work. Cowardly."

"I'll forgive you if you forgive me," Ikora offered in bargain. She gave a sly smile, Andal-style.

Azra didn't need deals or trades. Ikora  _had_  apologized. There was no pride or judgement in her Light. Even more, Azra didn't  _want_  to need a deal. The choice to trust was a powerful one to make. So she gave no verbal contract, just nodded.

"What an interesting perspective," Ikora said. "I don't think I have seen anyone put it quite like that."

Azra wasn't bothered with the mind-reading, but the way Ikora looked at her with interest slid a thin edge of discomfort between her ribs. "It's not from the Vault," she said as a ward. She wasn't used to having to watch her thoughts as well as her words.

"Don't, then," Ikora said. "I value honesty. You won't hurt my feelings."

Azra huffed a sigh and nodded. It was a struggle, but when she pushed away the unease, it didn't return.

* * *

May 24, 2950, 18:44; Stalker's Peril, Appalachian Dead Zone, Earth

Six Guardians collapsed to the ground in shaky relief. They were all beaten up, with singed and bullet-ridden armor, torn marks and robes and capes.

"That went terribly," the Voidwalker groaned. She rolled her shoulders as her Ghost healed her strained muscles.

"We won, didn't we?" Tapio asked. He out of all of them bounced back the fastest. He was cycling through various guns, reloading and checking for signs of damage.

"I'm with Veera on this one," Azra said. She tried to stem the flow of blood still coming from her nose, glancing at her red-stained hands with something between accusation and mild disgust _. Note to self: leave the headbutting for the Titans._  She pinched the bridge of her nose and did her best to stop her clothes from getting stained.

She looked back up at the fireteam to find them staring at her in varying levels of horror. She grimaced. She was basically just playing with her own blood to them. "Sorry, old habits," she muttered, holding a hand out for Spark.

She drove on with her train of thought. "We're not going to win the Vault because Veera can cast a really big Nova Bomb or because I can pull my Staff for five minutes straight. Personal strength alone won't cut it." She sighed as Spark erased the dull aches of the bruises starting to bloom under her armor. "Kabr's team was some of the best of the best. But when we fell, we fell alone."

"You can't expect a us to work together smoothly on our first mission," Sylas argued.

"That is why we are doing this in the first place," Veera pointed out. "We need to get used to each other's… habits."

"That was  _bad_  in there," Sulla pointed out. Azra had to agree. She'd been on fireteams with complete strangers that had worked together better than they had.

"If there's blame to go around, I'll take some," the Arcstrider said. She was feeling good enough now to pull herself to her feet. Her hands and face were clean. "I'm used to running with people who anticipate me." First step towards strength is recognizing your weaknesses, Tevis would say. "Or at least people who can catch on quick what I'm up to. I shoulda telegraphed more. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten cut off."

Veera frowned. "There doesn't need to be blame-"

"Yes, there  _does_." Azra spread her hands in a forceful gesture. "We sucked in there.  _Hard_. I pushed too far and got cut off, you guys didn't move fast enough forward, you cast your Bomb at the same time Sulla pulled her Hammer, and I don't even know  _what_  was going on with Sylas and Tapio."

"We also rallied," Veera pointed out. "We regrouped, and killed the Servitor, and we fought our way out."

"Not saying nothing went right," Azra said. "Just we need things to  _not go wrong_. So there's blame. And you use that blame to motivate yourself to do better."

Veera gave Azra a long, hard look. Azra felt a bit of guilt well up in her chest; she hadn't meant to speak so harshly.

Then, in a moment that elevated Veera in her eyes, the Warlock turned and started giving orders.

"Tapio and Sylas, you are switching roles. We need your tether, Tap, you can't be focused on guarding our rear. Sylas and his shield will be a good rally point. Sylas," the Titan straightened as she addressed him, "you need to be honest. I want no 'I can handle this myself' BS. I need to know what is happening back there. It figures into the calculations as much as what Azra tells me. Azra."

The Arcstrider started a bit at the harshness in Veera's voice.  _It seems she's a bit pissed off at us_ , Spark murmured.

But Veera's Light wasn't angry, just stern. "You are right. You need to tell me what you are doing. You are supposed to be my eyes and ears. No starting fights. No pushing unless I say so. That means if there is a branch, you wait for me to tell you which direction."

"That won't work in the Vault," Azra argued.

"We are not in the Vault," Veera pointed out. "Until then, you make your evaluation, but I make the decision. And if there is a golden opportunity, you need to  _tell me_  that you are pushing. And you need to be able to fall back if I say we are unable to follow." Veera's eyes were green fire.

"…I can respect that," Azra said with a sober nod. She crossed her arms reflexively against the heat of Veera's frustrations, quelling her own fire. They didn't need friction right now. They needed unity. And frankly, Veera's hardass-ery would build that. Her pack had been much more loose with the rules, but they had been much more familiar with each other. If this group couldn't be a family, at least they could be a unit.

_Ship's here,_  Spark announced. Azra heard the whine of engines at the edge of her hearing. "Where to, Captain?" she asked.

She expected Veera to keep the stick up her butt and order them back to the City, but the Warlock got a thoughtful look on her face. "Any suggestions?" she asked.

Azra wanted to laugh. She was starting to get used to the Warlock's stubborn open-mindedness.

"I would like to visit the Forge on Mercury," Sulla said. "I have some gear there I need to fetch. Maybe the Empyreal Magistrate will let you inside."

"Hey, so does my lifetime ban still count since I was assumed dead?" Azra asked. "'Cause that was mostly Cayde's fault anyway, and you can't expect me  _not_ to cover for him-"

"Maybe if you beg your way back into Ouros's good graces," the Sunbreaker interrupted. She sounded cold, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. (Cayde still liked to tell the story of how he'd snuck a metric buttload of smoke bombs into the Sunbreakers' personal quarters. The look on the Titans' faces had been absolutely priceless.)

"To Mercury, then," Veera announced. "We will leave Azra to guard the doorstep if we need."

* * *

May 28, 2950, 17:56; Shores of Time, Maat Mons, Venus

Six Guardians walked out of the arena.

"That was… not horrible," Veera said. They'd won, but more importantly, they were starting to act as a cohesive unit. Difference in tactics aside, they were communicating.

"Speak for yourself," Azra groaned, pulling up the match statistics. She wasn't their strongest player. She was strangely hesitant in the Crucible.

"It's not my fault you can't deal with shooting people," Tapio teased. "Look at those numbers! No inspiration!"

"Not my fault you're so short. You get more cover, proportionally." Azra replied evenly.

"Shots  _fired_ ," Wahida-14 breathed. The Exo Warlock remained rather distractible. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing in the chaos of the Crucible- the other teams never managed to successfully flank them.

Azra tabbed around on her screen. "Cayde still has a bounty up for that Hive Wizard. Let's go do that."

The Sunbreaker among them frowned. "I would not imagine Cayde-6 is the… best person to run ops."

"At least he doesn't start yelling every time I pull my Staff," Azra muttered. "Distracting is what it is."

Their comms systems crackled to life and Lord Shaxx's deep voice cut through. "I heard that."

Azra's face turned an interesting shade of red as she motioned for the feed to cut. It was kind of cute.

* * *

May 29, 2950, 11:11; Fleetbase Korus, Phobos

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED  
PARTIES: Four [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Warlock [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Titan [u.3]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.4];  
ASSOCIATIONS: Cabal; Firebase Korus; Jax, Azra; Llyr, Tapio; Pro'ourg, Priums; Sulla; Veera;  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:0.1]: That…

[u.2:0.1]: That was amazing!

[u.3:0.1]: We actually did it. Priumus Pro'ourg is dead.

[u.3:0.2]: With him out of the way, we might have a chance at retaking Phobos for good.

[u.2:0.2]: But did you see that shot?

[u.4:0.1]: Didn't think you were good with the Gun, Tapio.

[u.2:0.3]: I'm alright.

[u.4:0.2]: That was tight.

[u.2:0.4]: What are you talking about? That was awesome!

[u.4:0.3]: It's a compliment. Tidy. That was damn tidy.

[u.1:0.2]: I think we are ready.

[silence]

[silence]

[u.3:0.3]: I mean, as long as Azra doesn't trip again-

[u.4:0.4]: It was a tactical de-elevation.

[u.2:0.5]: You fell down some stairs.

[u.4:0.5]: And landed on a Psion that was sneaking up behind us.

[u.1:0.3]: What is your evaluation?

[beat]

[u.4:0.6]: …Yeah.

[u.2:0.6]: Woo!

[u.3:0.4]: We still haven't formulated a concrete plan-

[u.4:0.7]: Plans don't survive well, in my experience.

[u.3:0.5]: We need structure.

[u.1:0.4]: We have a few days.

[u.3:0.6]: Let's make the most of them.

* * *

May 30, 2950, 12:05; The Last City, Earth

They sat around a conference table. Sneaking Sulla into the City was no easy task, but it was worth it for the amenities. The holographic surface was covered in Venusian maps and bulleted lists and pictures. They'd sat and talked for hours it seemed, working through the plan again and again and again. Every scrap of information Azra gave was devoured by the curious Warlocks and tactically-minded Titans. She was more at ease with this group than alone in a room with Ikora Rey.

Spark's speaker crackled to life. The recording was filled with too-perfect static, but the voice was immediately familiar to her.

"I have destroyed myself to do this. They have taken my Ghost. They are in my blood and brain. But now there is hope.

"I have made a wound in the Vault. I have pierced it and let in the Light. Bathe in it, and be cleansed. Look to it, and understand:

"From my own Light and from the thinking flesh of the Vex I made a shield. The shield is your deliverance. It will break the unbreakable. It will change your fate.

"Bind yourself to the shield. Bind yourself to me. And if you abandon your purpose, let the Vault consume you, as it consumed me.

"Now it is done. If I speak again, I am not Kabr."

There was silence for a moment. Then Azra spoke. She half-expected her voice to be marred by static as well, but it sounded clear and true. "Kabr is not gone. His influence on this world has not ended. Not while we remember him. And if you remember him, if you do this for him, in his name, you'll have his help.

"In a way, he is more powerful than me, more successful than me, because where the Vault changed me, he changed the Vault. He died doing this, but he did it. He cracked the glass and let the Light in. Now, when we go down there, we will not face the Ritual of Negation alone."

"Can you just… summon the Aegis?" Sylas asked. "This sounds very abstract."

Azra nodded. "I can, have, and will. The question is if  _you_  can."

"Look at this record I pulled from the Ishtar Collective," Veera urged. She slid an image sliding across the table.

"That's it," Azra confirmed. The kite-shaped shield looked odd in still picture. The fluttering, shifting light was caught frozen.

"This… has  _my_  heading on it," Spark said, disturbed. "But I didn't take this image."

"Maybe you will," Wahida pointed out. Azra shrugged.

* * *

June 02, 2950 17:27; The Last City, Earth

Cayde was all shifty-eyed when she got back from the strike. His Light was humming with giddiness. Azra leaned her rifle against the wall, processing the situation. Tomorrow morning she'd be off on the raid. She was expecting dinner somewhere in the City and an early night. Now Cayde was rousing her suspicions.

Come to think of it, Shiro was a bit suspicious, too. He sat too still, hands clasped on the table, breathing deep and even. Overcompensating. (Tevis was bland in both expression and Light, par for the course.)

"What's going on?" Azra asked. The other three rose from their chairs as she crossed the room.

Cayde, unsurprisingly, couldn't take the suspense. He thrust a package into Azra's arms with no warning or fanfare. "We got something for ya."

The tissue paper crinkled in Azra's hands. She turned the bundle over, careful not to damage the fragile wrapping. Folds of fabric unspooled as she freed them.

It was a cloak. The fabric was heavy, cool, and slightly stiff. The threads, though coarse, were woven so tightly together that the surface felt smooth. It was dappled shades of dark green, vibrant yet restful (the green had always been hers, like Shiro's amber, like Andal's black). Delicate veins of white picked themselves between the splotches of color, forming and almost diamond-like pattern. It brought to mind twisting nebulae and sea foam.

"Bulletproof, waterproof, heating, active camo. Top of the line in terms of tech," Cayde bragged. Azra's fingers traced the streak of red that wound its way over the hood and down the side. Her hands were shaking. Hot tears prickled in her eyes.

"A reminder," Tevis said. And… that was it.

Cloaks had  _meaning_. They served as markers of individual style, but most had some sort of history to them. Memories, souvenirs, tokens of affection and mementoes of promises. A Dare, a crusade against the Fallen, a lifetime of wandering.

Azra… she had never really settled into one thing. Her cloaks changed like the weather. She liked green for practical reasons, but her wardrobe was never static. The swath of red fabric she wore now was just a scrap from a past life.

The article in her hands was so  _her_. It was gorgeous  _and_  useful. But it was also a gift. An expensive one. To keep her safe. A gift, and a reminder, because that's what cloaks were for.

When she'd gone into the Vault, she'd done so with a team, but she had still been alone. They'd all been alone. Then she fell. When Azra had fought, she hadn't been thinking of outside, she'd been focused on saving her own life. In the moment her foot slipped off the edge, she'd forgotten the strength in her pack. She never again found the force to bend the universe to her needs. Maybe a bit more confidence, a bit more hope would have saved her. In the scheme of things, her own life wasn't worth much in giving. She hadn't had anything else to weigh against the will of the Vex.

They probably didn't realize it, but the cloak was a jab at that. If she'd just kept them with her, in spirit even if not in person-

Her arms were bound tight around someone's torso, cloak scrunched in her right hand while her left was tangled in their shirt. She realized she was half-crying, half-rambling into their chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm  _sorry_ ," she pleaded, holding tight like physical strength could keep them from falling apart again.

She apologized, again and again, because despite the things she knew, in spite of logic and reason… she'd sworn an oath. She was supposed to come  _back_. If Andal's Dare had marked the end of the good days, then her disappearance marked the beginning of the bad ones. Even if it was impossible, no matter how far she wandered, she was supposed to come back before six decades had passed them in loss.

There were hands on her back. Her hair was ruffled by someone's sigh. Her fingers ached now with how hard they were clenched, but she felt if she let go she'd start falling and never stop.

"I forgive you," Tevis said. It was Tevis she was locked against, then, because the voice rumbled in his chest. He grabbed her shoulder and she pulled back obligingly, a little embarrassment flushing her face red. Tevis's features spoke in steely-eyed honesty and acceptance that swallowed the problem whole. That couldn't be it, could it? One 'I forgive you' to fix all the guilt?

But it kind of did. "The worst thing I ever did was leave," Azra confessed.

"The worst thing I ever did to her, I think, was trying to hold her back," Andal said. It wasn't Andal, just a recording of him. The background chatter of whatever room he had been in filled the still air. Azra's eyes found Sundance, whose shell was moving while she played the clip. "Regret comes quicker than forgiveness, but I know it's how she'd have wanted to go. She had that saying, about ships and harbors, and how she wasn't made for safety. She liked storms. So I don't regret now letting her go. I regret all those times I told her no because I didn't believe."

"You forgave us," Shiro said. "Let us forgive you. I understand why you were gone so long. I understand why you're going again."

"Let it go," Tevis added. "There's not enough time to waste it on grieving."

"Plus, you're coming back." Cayde wasn't questioning, nor was he confident in the way that hid deeper insecurities. It was stated as a fact. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Azra's coming back. He whisked her old cloak away and settled the new one on her shoulders.

She pulled the hood up-

* * *

_She grinned and pushed the hood back. "I nicked it off of a Baron. While he was still shooting at me."_

_Tevis reached out and pulled the hood back up. "Show some pride, Hunter." There were Warlocks present, after all. "You got a name yet?"_

* * *

-and arched her back. The weight of the fabric was comforting and solid. "Thanks," she said, meaning several things at once. She dried the tears from her face.

Tevis stood semi-abruptly. "You can pay us back by settling an argument-"

"C'mon, it's close, and we can get a private room!" Cayde immediately interrupted.

"I've fulfilled my ramen quota for this month," Shiro complained.

Cayde smacked a hand down on the table. "Bullshit!"

Right back into the arguments, it seemed. "Traveler  _above_ ," Azra swore. It seemed the group spent more time arguing where to eat dinner than they did actually eating dinner. Inconsequential debate was a regular pastime, even in the future.

Exasperation filled Azra's chest, but it was mixed with nostalgia. It couldn't be all that different, if they still bickered the same. "Why don't we just go down to Jolder's Walk and get street food? Cayde can get his ramen and the rest of us won't have to experience death by a thousand noodles."

"… Sounds agreeable," the Gunslinger admitted.

* * *

The last night, Azra slept soundly. Shiro messed with the AC system so there were no interruptions. Cayde left the windows open. They all piled haphazardly onto the futon, like old times. (Wasn't it just a few months ago, in some way?) For once, Azra slept without fear.

She and Shiro rose slightly before sunrise. The Exo bustled around in the kitchen while Azra leaned and stared out the window. The noise of the City was a dull hum. Her eyes never left the sky. She drank in every shade of the morning, pale grays and blues and yellows. The artificial lights were slowly washed out by the sun.

The coffeepot gurgled. Shiro set a mug of tea by her elbow. She smiled and shoulder-checked him gently. They watched the sun rise.

Every second, every breath, her heart grew bolder. Her love for this world grew fiercer. There was no way she was leaving any of this behind. Each moment was a link in the chainmail she wove around her heart.

The two early birds roused the night owls with pushes and threats of cold water. Cayde bemoaned his life choices and made for the coffee. Tevis moved mechanically for the fridge, muttering something about calories. He made a batch of scrambled eggs and was halfway through frying up some ham scraps before he fully came to his senses (semiconscious Tevis was a better cook than awake Tevis was, anyway).

They ate, and laughed, and haggled over the last scrap of meat, narrowly avoiding a physical altercation between Cayde and Shiro when both called dibs.

Then Azra carefully put on her armor. Every strap was pulled snug but not too tight, double-and-triple checked. She settled her holsters in their positions and threw her new cloak over top. Her hands trembled as they did up the clasp, but not much.

All four left the room together. The hallways and streets were nearly empty, so the walk to the courtyard was all too brief.

There were hugs, and admonishments, and a few death threats, then the group parted. Azra, to her ship, to Venus, to the Vault. The other three to the War Room and several hours of worry.

_It's not the last time we'll see them_ , Spark assured.

But Azra didn't  _know_.


	27. Last TIme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to make sure most of the next few parts were written before we entered this last phase of the story.

This is the part where the needle skips  
And the chorus plays like a sink that drips  
A syllable repeating, like a warning we aren't heeding  
Until all of a sudden we noticed it  
When the wheels brace and the tires grip  
A map we've been misreading  
A defeat we're not conceding

This Is Letting Go - Rise Against

* * *

June 03, 2950, 09:30; Waking Ruins, Venus

Doing the gig the Vanguard way had its benefits. This was no harebrained scheme. A strike team cleared the way ahead of them. They had lookouts and sniper support. The Vanguard coordinated several other attacks on Vex installations nearby in an attempt to distract the Hezen Protective (Azra could have told them it wouldn't work, but the thought was nice). Fireteam Dauntless rolled up to the Vault of Glass with full magazines, still shiny-clean and unscuffed.

It was a perfectly normal Venusian day, overcast and humid. The Vex were out in full force. They  _knew_. Azra couldn't decide if it was worrying or comforting- did they know they had enough reinforcements, or were they so focused on this time because they knew they would lose?

There was precious little room for thought when they broke through the treeline. Azra didn't have time to get distracted with old memories and cast-off bits of the future. The only moment was now. Keep tabs on her teammates, the Vex, the dully gleaming door. Listen for the comms chatter and the sound of arcing lasers and the mechanical groans.

They, the six of them, fought their way through the ranks with practiced efficiency. Azra ducked and weaved between the attacks and breathed the filtered air her helmet provided with careful purpose. Half of her mind was focused on the Vex and their movements, while the other half studied the sky overhead and the direction of the wind and the feeling of the ground through her gloves as she passed her weight from her feet to her hands and back again.

On Veera's signal they split- Sulla and Wahida-14, Tapio and Veera, Azra and Sylas-4- to their plates. It was a good way to divide the team; Wahida's flightiness balanced by Sulla's battering ram-esque style, Veera and Tapio's sheer damage potential, and Sylas-

He and Azra got along. He was flexible and even-tempered enough for her, she was keen and serious enough for him. They made it work. He took care of the close-range combat while she thinned the herds in the middle distance. They talked.

"Is this like last time?" Sylas punched a Praetorian in the face. His knee caught it in the gut as it staggered, and the unit went down.

Azra peered down the scope of her Scout and picked off a Goblin that was edging on Wahida. "Not really," she muttered. "More Vex, but more backup. And it was sunny, then."

Sylas unholstered his rifle. "I don't believe I've ever seen it sunny on Venus."

"It can be beautiful," Azra said. "The undergrowth never really gets dry, but up in the mountains it can be downright pleasant at times."

"Almost there," Spark announced. "Just a few more seconds."

Just a few more seconds.

"Listen," she said, suddenly thinking of her previous rearguard, "I'm not upset Pahanin made it out. If you, like, need to-"

"I'm not leaving anyone behind," Sylas said.

"But-"

"That's final. I don't abandon my teammates." His tone brokered no arguments.

Azra frowned and studied the spire. The last few pieces were just sliding into place. The Vex were fleeing the battlefield. "There was nothing he could have done," she said.

Sylas shouldered his rifle and stared across the suddenly-empty ruins. "Are you sure?"

Azra relaxed as well when her own search for danger turned up empty. The clouds overhead were gathering thicker, heavy with unspent rain. "I'm not sure of anything, anymore," she finally answered. "There's too many maybes in this world."

"The doorway is opening," Veera announced over the comms. The sound of shifting metal echoed on the stone. If one listened carefully, there was meaning in the stark rhythm of it. Azra tried very hard not to listen.

"We'll probably lose the comms network when we're inside," the Arcstrider said, more for the benefit of the Vanguard than for her fireteam.

"In that case," Zavala announced, "best of luck to you, Fireteam Dauntless. And best of skill. Our future goes with you. Be brave."

They gathered. Sulla and Tapio were doing final-no-really-this-is-it weapons checks. Azra didn't bother. She stood before the door, and she could not deny the terror coursing through her veins.

"But it's not like last time," Sylas-4 reminded her.

"No, it's not," Azra agreed. "That's the one thing I know. For better or for worse… this won't be like last time."

_You with me?_  She asked Spark. The question echoed in their headspace, reflecting a hundred thousand twins.  _You with me?_  she'd asked in the Vault, at the end, when time was collapsing about her like a tent with its poles shattered, as Praedyth disappeared before her in a way she couldn't comprehend. It'd become a habit, before she leapt into the fray, to ask.  _Are you here? Am I here? Can we do this?_

A million reassurances answered.  _I'm with you. To the edge of the Galaxy and the end of time._

She pushed aside the  _what ifs_  and stepped through.

* * *

June 02, 2950, ?; Trial of Kabr, Vault of Glass, Venus(?)

The passageway was tight. The six Guardians were reduced to awkward shuffling gaits in the cramped space. Even the petite Tapio was stooped over. Azra inched along in front, senses probing the world around her. The tunnel would narrow up ahead, but if they got to the junction, they could double back to a larger corridor.

She flinched when Sulla swore. The Sunbreaker was having a hard time fitting around some of the boxy protrusions. It was just like-

* * *

_Everyone winced as the now-familiar sound of Kabr's armor grating against Vex rock echoed through the space. The man grumbled and hunched further over. "Find some larger tunnels," Kabr ordered._

_"Is the big Titan having trouble fitting through human-sized spaces?" Pahanin teased. Said Titan stubbornly refused to acknowledge the jab._

_"We'll call this path the Trial of Kabr," Azra decided, "In honor of our poor leader's shoulder guards."_

* * *

"What was that?" Wahida-14 asked. "Did you guys hear that?"

Azra pulled herself into the present. "Keep it together, Wahida," she ground out. "We need to keep moving." She couldn't lose it now, not when they were so close.

"But you just-"

" _Focus,_ " Azzra insisted, looking her in the eye. "You can't go chasing rabbits in here. Ignore it."

* * *

" _We might run into me in there," the Arcstrider warned. "We might even run into Kabr, or Praedyth, or Pahanin. Probably not Pahanin. The real issue is if we run into ourselves- that means something's gone pretty wrong. We should stay linear."_

* * *

"I hear it, too," Tapio said.

Bad. This was bad. "Ignore it," Azra insisted.

"What are we ignoring?" Sylas asked.

"That," Tapio said. "It's like…"

"It's like," Azra growled, "losing your grip. If you start chasing the future like you can remember it, start feeling for the past like you can relive it, then you don't get to have a present anymore. So focus. It's just echoes. Associations. They don't mean anything, they're not important, so stop. Listening!"

Her voice had risen in pitch. Azra realized her hands were white-knuckled fists on the ground. Here, the currents of Light were so faint she could barely taste the tinge of concern. The dim ambient glow was enough to make out Sylas's frown and Tapio's bewildered eyes, though.

She let out a slow breath and turned her attention back to the path. "This way." Nobody protested this time.

Azra was an expert at this. She slid through the tangle like a record player skipping its track. Forward, back again, over large chasms, through tight corridors-

* * *

_They went up stairs, down stairs, across metal catwalks, over concrete, under arches, and through crowds of people. Without her sight, Azra was forced to use her other senses to try and keep herself from stumbling over the frequent obstacles. Andal at least kept her from outright colliding with things._

* * *

And back again. The other five followed behind her, determination set into their shoulders and eyes. They carved a path through the timelines. The loops flattened out. The Vault behind them remained scarred and grounded.

In this manner, they reached the Templar's Well safe and sound.

* * *

June 02, 2950, ?; Templar's Well, Vault of Glass, Venus(?)

There were some surprised gasps from the team when they entered the room. It was large and full of mist and so familiar in that way that way Azra rarely experienced- someplace so often visited, so explored and normalized, that it ceased being interesting. Like a room one slept in every day.

"This is it," Veera said, half-whisper. Her voice bordered on reverence.

"Only one person has ever gotten past this room," Azra reminded. She crouched at the edge of the passageway, not quite ready to begin. "We can't just run past like I did, if we're staying linear. Once the Templar is here, it dies, or we cease existence."

"Remember to communicate," Veera said. "That is key."

"That's what went wrong last time." Azra let the old memories slip past like a sigh. "We were six Guardians. Not one fireteam. We're in this together now, for better or worse." She made eye contact with Sylas. He nodded.

"Are you ready?" Veera asked. Nobody said no. One by one, they jumped from their ledge, carefully negotiating the airspace to land safe on the platform. There was a cold void beneath them, but the ground was solid.

Azra did one last sweep, touching on every nook and cranny she knew. The Templar's conflux glowed in that odd unchanging way. The pool of Kabr's Light shifted with the seconds, a comforting temporal anchor.

_Do it_ , she told Spark. He lit up the conflux, and everything became chaos.

* * *

The Templar's shield was impenetrable, as predicted, as remembered. The whole Fireteam defended the Conflux while Spark did his hacking work. Then they split in two as more confluxes shifted into existence. Then three. Kabr's Light blazed brighter and brighter as the Ghosts pulled on the strings of time. The Templar tried, but with the six of them digging in their heels, and with the shimmering, stubbornly constant well of Light forgiving their mistakes, even the Templar's power wasn't enough to snuff them out.

Not even the Oracles were enough to phase them, at least at first. Azra vacillated between confidence, because the Vex were so easy to predict, and existential worry, because the Vex were so easy to predict.

One Oracle, then a group of two, then three, then four, five, six…

It was becoming too much. There wasn't enough time to mow down the hoards. The push of the Oracles became more and more insistent, their melodies resonating in a way that made the air shake. The Templar watched it all with its unblinking eye.

Azra had only one trump card to play. She was back-to-back with Sylas, so close she could feel the worry he was pushing down, the focus he was trying to pull over himself.

Azra took one step forward, away. "Kabr!" she yelled.

And for a second, just a second, she was there, two places at one, two times. She was backed against the far wall, holding her ground against waves of Vex. She was standing in the center, reaching out towards a tall and broad Titan. She was surrounded by the chatter of her fireteam's guns as they held their position together.

Kabr's faceplate had been shattered. He looked at her with fear-wild eyes. The Oracles chimed around them, their hums building to a screaming crescendo.

With a force of will she didn't realize she still had, Azra pushed herself forward. She clung to the idea of Veera and her fireteam, and as she stepped on, she found herself back with them. The seven Oracles shattered, one after the other.

She reached out a hand. Kabr reached for her in turn.

Then she stood, in one time, one place, supported by the Light of five living Guardians and the force of their wills. The Aegis fit on her arm like it was made for her. Maybe it had been.

"The well's gone, but I'm marked!" Sulla yelled.

Azra rolled her shoulders like Kabr would have done. The shield wasn't heavy, but it had an odd sense of inertia to it. "Hey, Temontes!" she shouted.

Her Light welled up like blood from a cut. It trembled for a moment, held only by surface tension, then-

It was more like shooting a cannon than throwing something, but this was Kabr. Of course it was. The Templar's shield fell to pieces. She planted her feet and braced her shoulders and thought, with all the stubbornness of the Striker she knew,  _We Will Exist._

And it was so. Void and Solar swirled around her as Veera and Tapio gathered their Light. Guns chattered, rockets hissed through the air. In the chaos, Azra caught the soft chime of an Oracle. Before she had a chance to open her mouth and call a warning, Wahida spun and unloaded her fury on it. The Oracle shattered.

And then, for once, something happened that Azra had never seen before.

Veera detonated a Void explosion on the Vex Mind.

Tapio gathered himself in anger and fired off one last shot.

The Templar… the Templar  _died_. With a drawn-out screech, it lost its superstructure and fell into a pile of burning pieces. Then the pieces exploded.

Azra eased her deathgrip on reality and  _stared_. The other five cheered. Someone jostled her, pulled at her shoulders, but she barely noticed.

If she hadn't believed before, certainly now… "Holy shit. We could  _actually beat_  Atheon."

* * *

June 02(?), 2950, ?; The Gorgon's Labyrinth, Vault of Glass, Venus(?)

Azra fell, and fell, and fell, but she knew exactly how far the drop was. Her jump was executed at the precise second that left her touching down on the ground like she was simply stepping off of a curb. She settled into a crouch.

There was nothing but stillness and the echoes of water falling. Azra's every sense was held razor-taut. The cavern thrummed with nothingness, but she knew how much that was a lie-

Muffled impacts sounded behind her as the rest of the fireteam descended. She held a finger up to her lips, then spread her hands palms-down for silence. She got five helmet nods in return.

This was the most dangerous part. Every other bit of the plan had some leeway. Kill the Fanatics. Don't step in the Radiolaria. Cleanse yourself at the well, or with the shield, kill the Oracles, take down the Templar before it can do anything else.

Here: don't get spotted. Kill the Gorgon if you do. Pray you're fast enough.

"Stay on my ass," she whispered to the comms link. "You know what to do if we're spotted." She crept forward, wanting to be through and out but knowing the Titans couldn't handle a faster pace without much clamor.

They proceeded through the chasm, and Azra was surprised to find that she knew already where the Gorgons would be. They held steady rhythms from this point of view. With the Templar gone and her Fireteam carving a path through the Vault like trampled meadow grass, the place was losing its luster. The structure of the timespace groaned and twisted like the insides of an ancient ship. Azra watched the Gorgons move through the passageways like crates sliding across the tilting deck.

This fireteam was not built for stealth. Despite the slow pace, despite all the caution they could muster, there was still the occasional whisper of movement, soft voices or the heavy tread of armored footsteps. Azra kept them bar back from the wandering harpies.

"You have that frown on your face," Veera murmured. Her voice was whisper-close in the comms link, though she was several feet away. They were crouched behind a ridge of stone, waiting for a Gorgon to clear their intended path.

"What?" the Hunter whispered back.

The Warlock was wearing a helmet, so Azra couldn't make her expression. "That one you get when you are thinking. You look so disappointed."

"I'm not disappointed. I'm worried." Azra pulled the frown into a deeper grimace and tugged the hood of her cloak up further. A stream next to them was spattering small drops of water everywhere. "We're doing weird things to this place. And the hardest challenge is yet to come."

"We are ready for it," Veera said confidently.

Azra nodded. "What I'm worried about, with the nature of cause and effect here, is that Atheon will be ready for  _us_."

"Cayde never said you were a worrier," Tapio whispered in tease.

Azra was only using a fraction of her focus on the conversation. The rest of her ears and eyes were for the Gorgon. It only took one slip-up. "I never was," she murmured, "before here."

Every time she said something like that, 'before here', 'after this', 'next', it startled her. She kept flexing her will against the Vault, but instead of running afoul of paradoxes and twisting loops, she found herself on steady ground, with one way forward and one way back. It was so strange, being strong again.

The Gorgon drifted clear. Azra just  _knew_  in an instinctive way that it wouldn't turn around. "Let's go," she hissed.

They moved.

* * *

The Labyrinth was easier to navigate, but it became clear just how much damage the six Guardians were doing to the Vault's structure when they had to cross the final chasm.

"The platforms are supposed to be static," Azra argued. The one in front of them disappeared, while another further on sprang into existence.

"These are not static," Sulla pointed out.

Tapio snorted. "Very helpful, Sylas. I didn't notice."

Spark was watching the platforms vanish and appear, taking notes. "The only thing I can think of, is we are staying linear, but this part of the Vault is too powerful- it's not the domain of the Templar or the Gorgons, we're on Atheon's doorstep- we are interacting with it in a very strange way."

"Like a cross-section," Wahida mused. "Or an MRI. Time can operate like a spatial dimension, if we are being objective about it."

"Exactly," Azra said. Her eyes traced the space between their ledge and the opposite wall. In her mind she pulled at her memories and was astounded when the knowledge resolved itself into something comprehensible. "I've got the pattern figured out."

"Already?" Sylas sounded doubtful.

"There's a way these things go. This is a loop we're intersecting with." She stood and brushed off her pants. "I can get us across safely. Follow me."

* * *

June(?) 2950(?); The Glass Throne, Vault of Glass, Venus(?)

There was a long moment of awed silence when they finally mounted the stairs to the Glass Throne. The six Guardians collectively paused to study the facets of stone and crystal and light. It was, Azra had to admit, beautiful, in some hostile and inhuman way.

The others were excited. They bobbed on their toes, stretching, checking weapons and tightening armor straps. Their enthusiasm bounced off of each other, amplifying, building. Azra just felt cold. Her thoughts were not about the structure before them, but of the ones left behind.  _Just, one last time?_  She asked of her Ghost.

He tried. Every trick he knew he tried, but there was no getting through _. Comms are absolutely blocked, if not by Vex time shenanigans, then by several hundred meters of rock. I'm sorry._

Azra pulled her cloak tighter around herself. It helped a little. "You still up for this, Sylas?" she asked.

"If anyone else will be able to make a connection with Kabr, it is him," Veera said with certainty.

"You never met him, did you?" Azra mused.

"I did," Sulla pointed out. "I agree with Veera's evaluation. Sylas is smart enough to make it work."

"Then… let's do this." What was there left to do, but to get it over with? Azra put on her helmet and pulled up her hood. The others followed suit.

"For the Vanguard," Veera said. "For Humanity and the Light. All or nothing, right here and right now. For our futures! Let us bash some Vex heads together!"


End file.
